Monday December 14th, 2009
Saying goodbye to my family in Namaacha was no easy task, but at the same time it wasn’t extremely emotional (i.e. tearing up) either. For one, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep the night before and, two, I started feeling sick to my stomach while eating breakfast the morning of our departure. Pretty soon after breakfast I was overcome with stomach cramps, diarrhea, and body aches and all of this rendered me relatively mute and introverted for the day.
“Definitely not a good day to travel!” I thought to myself. That said, I knew that I had to suck it up and stick it out for the trip up to Nampula. In between my frequent trips to my host family’s casa de banho that morning, I finished packing my bags and was thrilled to find out that my host family was offering to take me in their car to the send off. We arrived at the market and before I knew it, the chapas were sputtering off as I waved goodbye to all the host families from the barrio (my friends’ host families as well as my own) that I’d grown so close to over the past 10 weeks. It was a sad moment for sure, and one that I won’t soon forget, but my mind was elsewhere, swirling with jolts of pain and discomfort. Only seconds after leaving Namaacha I collapsed, completely exhausted, in the front seat of the chapa with my head awkwardly slumped over as I slept. A great beginning to the next two years of my life, right?!
Thinking back, the chapa ride from Namaacha to the Maputo airport is a blur. I was constantly coming in and out of consciousness and when we finally made it to the airport I don’t think I even entirely understood what was going on. Waiting in the crammed, non-air conditioned departure gate of the airport with 30+ PCVs to check in was tortuous to say the least. I took several trips to the bathroom and several more to a nearby bench to sit down and pass out, even if just for a few moments. The flight from Maputo to Nampula should have been about 3 hours, but it had an hour-long layover in Beira which seemed to last infinitely longer than scheduled. Luckily, the flight attendant took pity on me and didn’t make me leave the plane like everyone else during the layover. When we got finally arrived in Nampula, the PC driver wanted to take me to the hospital, but I insisted on just going to the hotel and resting. We had already taken my temperature and I knew that there probably wasn’t anything more that the hospital medical staff could have done for me because it was only a low grade fever (our PC medical officer should be so proud of me!). After rushing in the hotel and stumbling up to my room, the next thing I remember is waking up the following morning with my fever having broken and feeling a lot better, but still pretty weak.
I spent the morning chilling in my hotel room splitting time between the Arabic news channels (there is a heavy Arabic influence in the northern part of Mozambique) and infomercials on the one English-speaking, South African channel. When I had finally grown tired of the television and became conscious of the fact that I was missing the Supervisors Conference, I managed to take a quick shower, dress myself, and make it down to interact with my organization’s counterparts for a few hours before having to retreat to my room for the afternoon to rest up. Even though I missed out on several hours of the conference, my presence wasn’t terribly missed because the organization I’m partnered with has 4 other new PCVs working with them this year (Ethan, Josh, Katie, and Melissa) and a history with working with PCVs. Therefore, even though I wasn’t physically there, I think that my interests were represented through my fellow PCVs.
The next morning, Friday, the whole army of FGH, ICAP, and Save The Children PCVs headed down to Quelimane, where our NGOs’ main offices are, from Nampula. Even though we left early and didn’t stop that often, the trip still took all day. Part of the reason it took so long is that during a 50 mile stretch between Alto Moloque and Mocuba the road is in really bad shape which not only forced us to slow down to a crawl, but also caused us to pop a tire. Consequently, we spent 30 minutes or so on the side of road having to change the tire, but it gave us a chance to get out and stretch our legs and for that we were all grateful. During the trip we passed by Alto Moloque (my district capital) and my counterpart pointed off in the distance when we passed a side road to indicate where Nauela is (what a tease!). I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be making it back up there because my supervisor, Chire, tells me that they are currently building an indoor bathroom onto my house (it was an outside latrine for the last PCV) and it’s not quite ready yet. Patience is the name of the game…
Friday December 18th, 2009
We’ve been in Quelimane for a week now and I’m still not sure when I’ll finally be going to my site. Melissa, Josh, and Katie left for their sites yesterday, but Ethan and I stayed behind because our sites’ still aren’t quite ready yet. Both the previous PCVs who we are replacing had to use outdoor latrines as bathrooms and FGH decided that they would construct indoor bathrooms for Ethan and I because it was a point of much contention.
We’ve spent a lot of time this week at the FGH office meeting people in the organization and just getting acclimated to the new hierarchy of things. We met with Teresa (the director of FGH in Mozambique), Ruth (the director of the community outreach program for FGH Mozambique), Chire (our direct supervisor), as well as the representatives of other local organizations that we might be working with. In fact, we were also supposed to meet with governor of province, but the scheduling didn’t work out so we’ll have to wait on that one till another day.
A lot of the meetings were slow to start and not terribly interesting, but one moment from the week stands out in my mind above the rest. As our meeting with Ruth came to an end and she was getting her things ready to catch her flight back to Maputo, she decided to tell us a story about her previous experience with PC from her childhood and it goes a little like this:
When I was a child growing up in Swaziland, I frequently saw Peace Corps volunteers in their long, flowing dresses and their huge packs loaded down with seemingly all their worldly possessions. It was a peculiar site to say the least. Moreover, instead of using their own private vehicles to get from place to place, like all the other white people we would see, they were always walking and/or using public transportation. In fact, in all our interactions with them, my friends and I didn’t know much about these foreigners except for the fact that they referred to themselves as “volunteers.” At the time, my friends and I didn’t really understand the concept of a volunteer and it wasn’t until secondary school that we finally grasped their role and purpose for being in our country. In reality, up until that time my friends and I genuinely believed that these strange foreigners were simply a poorer tribe of nomadic white people wandering around Swaziland. –Oh Peace Corps :P
Sunday December 20th, 2009
So after more than a week of waiting in Quelimane for my home in Nauela to be ready, the take home lesson is: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!
The ongoing joke between Ethan and I has been that Quelimane is quickly seeming more and more like our actual site and we wonder if FGH will ever actually send us out to our supposed destinations. With that in mind, and spurred on by the fact that nearly all of shops shut down on Sunday, Ethan and I made the decision this morning that it was fine time to stop aimlessly wandering around, buying supplies for our sites and start our entry and integration in the local community... of Quelimane.
Ethan and I started out by doing some of the basic tasks that any other Quelimanian might do on a Sunday morning. First, we took a bike taxi to the local market and haggled with the vendors over the price of the local commodity: the illustrious pineapple. Now, a freshly picked pineapple in the States might cost you several dollars, if available at all, but here in Mozambique you can carry a nice plump one home for only 20 metacais (~70 cents!) after some skilled haggling. Ethan wasn’t feeling so well so he ended up heading back to the hotel earlier than I did, but that worked out well for me because on my way home from the market I was flagged down by a neighbor who lives a few houses down from the pensão we’re staying in and ended up having a 30 minute conversation and exchanging numbers. Even though he knows I’ll be leaving the city soon, he said I can send him a message whenever I come back in town and want to hang out.
No community entry/integration would be complete without participating in some of the less appealing daily tasks (i.e. the household chores). For me, today that manifested itself in an hour of washing clothes in the grueling midday heat. I got a late start on washing the clothes because of our trip to the market, which might have been a problem in Namaacha if I wanted my pants to dry out completely, but not here in Quelimane! It was so hot today (over 41 degrees Celsius) that the clothes all dried out in less than half a day with sunlight to spare! Ooh the things that are impressive to a PCV…
After lunch at a local chicken shack, Ethan and I heard some cheers from a local gym while wandering around and decided to sit down and watch a volleyball game that turned out to be the championship of a small, local tournament. The game was very close and, luckily, the fan favorite won in dramatic fashion, with several people in addition to the team storming the court and dancing, so (almost) everyone went home feeling energized and pretty good about the outcome. Walking out of the gymnasium I thought and laughed to myself “How’s that for community integration!”
All joking aside about our drawn out stay in Quelimane, I can’t wait to get to site. On the other hand, I’m definitely getting a little nervous about it. In fact, I just got down listening to the Beetles song “Elanor Rigby” and the repeated line “Aaah, look at all the lonely people!” immediately threw my mind back into all the conversations I’ve been having with other new PCVs who have already been delivered to their sites. Over and over I’ve heard stories of how they’ve been struggling dealing with the persistent feeling of loneliness. For some new PCVs the experience has been even worse. I just got word from one of my close friends from training who had her house broken into and got a lot of her electronics stolen (which are not easily replaceable here in Mozambique). I think that everyone is handling the transition differently and some people are dealing with it better than others. I’ve heard whispers about new volunteers who are thinking about ETing (early terminating their service), but I don’t know how strong these feelings are. Regardless, us PCVs need to continue to reach out to each other and we need the support from those of you back at home. So if you are reading this blog and you have a friend or family member over here… call them and show them that you love them and support them!
Sorry I don’t have any pictures this time, I’ll update you all soon enough with some from my site.
One Love,
Michael
Monday, December 21, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Reflecting on Mozambique, Saying Goodbye to Namaacha, and Swearing-in
Sunday November 29th, 2009
“Tchau! Ate logo!” I hollered back to my host family as I stepped out of the house and hurriedly started toward the street. I was on my way to meet up with some PC friends to watch a movie at Amanda’s house and was trying to slyly escape because I didn’t want to be later than I already was. I had been messing around, killing time around my host family’s house for almost an hour waiting for dinner to be served and, now that I had finally eaten, the last thing I wanted to do was waste any more time with long goodbyes.
Just as the loud crash of my house’s metal gate rang out behind me, I felt a slight twitch in my front pocket letting me know that I had received a text on my cell phone. I wasn’t too eager to check it, thinking that it might be a request from my host mom to come back and check in with her, but I made a quick glance at it in stride and realized that the text was actually from Alycia, another PC friend of mine. In the short message she innocently invited me to drop by her host family’s party to eat some cake and, even though I was already running late, I figured that her house was on the way. Moreover, I thought “Really, how long would it take me to eat a piece of cake?” (For those of you who know my eating habits, you know what I mean!).
Walking up to Alycia’s house, I was invited inside by her host sisters and quickly realized upon entering that this was not going to be any quick grab-cake-and-go experience. For one, her host mom was still setting the table when I arrived, while the whole extended family was sitting around the room watching in anticipation. To further highlight the importance of the event, there was even a local photographer present to help capture the evening’s activities. “Ugh! This isn’t what I signed up for…” I thought to myself. It’s funny how host families’ parties have become such a burden here in Namaacha, especially as our time here has started to come to an end. It seems that every other night there is a birthday, anniversary, or going away party that some volunteer and their host families are insisting you come to. It’s an honor for sure, but it’s still something keeping you and your friends from just relaxing and chilling together.
While thinking about trying to get to the movie with my other friends, I noticed that only two other volunteers were at the party and knew that I wasn’t going to be able to make a quick run for it and my absence not be felt. Sitting down next to Alycia’s host father, I decided to make the best of it and just go with the flow. After starting some small talk with the other party guests, I flipped out my cell phone and sent a resigned message to Amanda, “be there later. don’t wait to start movie for me. :(”
With music playing in the background and food aplenty set before us, the mood of my conversation remained somber as Alycia’s host father and his friend explained to me about their experiences in Mozambique’s armed forces. Even though they served in the military after the country’s civil war, it was still two long, rough years of their lives where they were uprooted from their homes and forced to train and stay on active duty several hours away from their friends and family. This is not a unique experience: two years of military service is mandatory for all Mozambican men.
Relating this to the issues that public health officials regularly confront in Mozambique, you begin to wonder how this military indoctrination at a crucial developmental stage in a man’s life affects the general Mozambican masculine state of mind in the areas of sexuality and the treatment of women. Although I’m sure there are some soldiers who continue to remain abstinent or faithful to one partner, I’m confident that sexual promiscuity is prevalent and widely accepted among the displaced population of young soldiers. Adding to the dangerous mix, almost the entire population of males in Mozambique has been trained to be “war ready” and I believe that you can sense that callused, detached mindset when trying to discuss the topics of mortality and the value of life in relation to public health issues, such as HIV/AIDS, with middle-age Mozambican males.
As I understood it, for as long as Mozambique has been a country, since 1975, all men have been required to complete at least two years military service. Back in the day this draft made sense while trying to combat any unrest following the independence of the country and the ensuing civil war. Now, however, Mozambique is decades removed from war and yet there exists a sense among Mozambicans that a military draft is still necessary.
Naively asking Alycia’s family who they thought Mozambique could/would be attacked by, one older woman earnestly blurted out “RENAMO!”, the current minority political party in the country and the former combatant during the country’s civil war. Thinking to myself about the implications of this outburst, I began to project the situation on the current U.S. political climate. It’s hard for me to imagine the feeling that would exist in America if people were scared that the Republicans or Democrats were going to try to violently overthrow the administration if they lost the elections. This, however, is a reality in Mozambique. In fact, just the past month, the leader of RENAMO made a televised announcement urging the people of Mozambique to rebel against the government following the lopsided national elections that were widely thought to be fraudulent. Luckily, these pleads weren’t heeded by the country’s population and things were able to continue on without incident. Regardless, being in a country where the tension between the opposing political parties is so high makes you notice how devastating the effects of a civil war could be. Neighbors who help one another, schools and hospitals that serve the needy, businesses that provide essential daily items for the population are all put at risk of collapsing during a civil war. Here we are some many years removed from the country’s civil war and things still feel so sensitive.
After taking all this in, I started to feel the effects of the recent flu-like illness I was still recovering from and ended up calling it a night soon after. I said my thanks to all the party guests, excused myself, and walked out the door, going home with a sense of uncertainty and more questions than answers about what my role here in Mozambique will end up being.
Wednesday December 2nd, 2009
With my head still trying to grasp the ramifications of the conversation at Alycia’s party, the PCTs were lucky enough to receive a visit today from the U.S. Charge D’affairs (Mozambique doesn’t currently have an ambassador) to put the current social, economic, and political climate here in Mozambique in perspective according to his experiences and beliefs (noticeably very politically charged and thus very different from the approach a PCV might take).
The Charge D’affairs, Todd Chapman, was introduced to the room of PCTs by our country director and at first glance came off looking rather stuck up and goofy with his distinctly-parted, meticulously-groomed hair cut. After only a few moments in front of the crowd of PCTs, however, my initial impression was surprising reversed by his frank and honest recollection about his experiences in country.
The take home message of the Charge D’affairs’ short presentation could be summed up as such: when trying to assess the current state of Mozambique, remember where it came from. Mr. Chapman first arrived in Mozambique in 1993, right after the end of the civil war between FRELIMO and RENAMO, and he couldn’t emphasize enough how far the country has come in the past 16 years. In the early 90’s, Mozambique was the poorest country in the world, based on per capita income, with around 80% of the population living in absolute poverty. Since then, there has been a 30% reduction in the percentage of people living in absolute poverty and the per capita income has quadrupled. That said, because it was so low to start with, Mozambique still remains among the 10 poorest countries in the world. After nearly 2 decades of aid, signs of sustainable improvements are suspect at best. In fact, Mozambique is considered one of the 10 most aid-dependent countries in the world. Perhaps best exemplifying this is the fact that, as I mentioned in a previous blog, over 70% of health care system is paid for by outside sources.
When looking at Mozambique’s shortcomings today, it’s hard to imagine how much worse the state of the country was less than two decades ago following the war for independence and the ensuing civil war. The country’s infrastructure (roads, schools, hospitals, electricity, etc.) had been completely decimated by the fighting. For example, the road from Maputo to Namaacha, which now takes an hour or so to travel, took more than 3+ hours to travel in 1993 due to the unbroken stretch of pot holes lining the road’s length. If that isn’t enough to give a picture of how bad it was in the country, think about how nearly 80% of all hospitals and schools were destroyed in combat. (PC education volunteers recently informed us how it’s not unusual for middle-aged men and women to go to night school now to try and regain the education they missed out on during/after the wars. In fact, the situation is so desperate that people even go to night school in places where there is no electricity and must learn by candlelight. Also keep in mind that these are individuals who are often up at 5am and work till their night school shift from 5-10pm, after which they have to go home, take care of household chores, and do it all over again the next day.)
To make matters more complicated, when peace keepers arrived in Mozambique shortly after the end of the civil war and started trying to demilitarize camps from both sides, they quickly realized that there was a whole generation of boy soldiers who didn’t have anyone or anything to go back to. These young men were raised to be soldiers and didn’t even know where they were from, much less who their family was. For those who were able to transition out of the military lifestyle, the early 90’s was a time where people remained inactive because scattered throughout the country were thousands of unmarked, unaccounted for landmines which made it quite treacherous for people to get out and start rebuilding the country.
Although many would argue that the climb up from this low point has been slow and corrupt, I’m torn when trying to assess whether international aid has been helping or hurting Mozambique. In the eyes of the U.S. Charge D’affairs, I’m sure that the aid has made a tremendously beneficial impact. But, the question of Why should the U.S. continue to give aid to Mozambique? is becoming harder answer in light of the global economic crisis and the fact that some people would argue that there are many indications that the aid is actually hurting the country’s movement towards democracy and economic success (the Charge D’affairs gave the example of the recent elections where there were reported incidents of ballot stuffing and an effort to exclude an up and coming third party from many of the country’s voting regions)
Regardless of international aid, the Mr. Chapman, educated with a strong background in economics, took the opportunity to answer the question of what he thinks Mozambique could do economically to improve its current state of affairs. He emphasized that Mozambique should expand its ability to capitalize on its natural resources (i.e agriculture and mineral wealth) and decrease its emphasis on expanding industry (he feels that Mozambique would really struggle to have a large industry presence because it would have trouble competing with neighboring South Africa and international giant China). Instead, the country should continue to build up infrastructure (i.e. reliable electricity, schools, hospitals, roads, etc) to attract more tourism and small businesses, while also building the country’s human capacity by getting more people who are working in Mozambique trained and educated.
All of these reflections (although some were politically charged and contrary to what PC is all about) have given me a slightly different perspective heading into my upcoming service and I trust that it has taught you back at home some new things too. I hope it will give me more patience with myself and my work (I know now it will be a long, slow process) and that it will inspire you to continue to do some of your own research on the subject back at home. As I move forward, please remind me of this blog when I seem down about lack of “forward progress” because no matter how slow things seem to be moving, I have to remember that Mozambique has come a long way.
Friday December 4th, 2009
I was sitting in my room on Thursday evening, trying to buckle down and put a capstone on the journal write-ups from the past few days, when my friend Kat came over and playfully convinced me to come out of my self-inflicted isolation and goof off with her and some of the neighborhood kids for a bit. A few minutes later, there we were in her front yard singing and dancing along to the blaring tune of Beyonce’s “If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it” (I don’t know if that’s the real name of it or not, but you know what I’m talking about) coming from the nearby barraca (a place where they sell alcohol) surrounded by 20 kids from the neighboring houses. At the end of the song, Kat and I collapsed into each other’s arms, out of breath and sweating, but smiling from ear to ear. It was a short-lived moment in comparison to other events during my experience here in Namaacha, but definitely one of the last one’s that I’d ever forget.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t an isolated incident of forgetting to be focused on the people I’m actually here to serve. I am constantly trying to remind myself to recognize how it’s not annoying, rather great that my host family brother and sisters are practically kicking in my door to play with me and how special it is that everyone I walk by in the neighborhood screams “mano Michael” (they pronounce it Me-Shy-El) to greet me. Nevertheless, I’m trying and I’m having fun doing itJ
One “business issue” we had going on today was our LPI (an oral exam PC uses to measure your grasp of a language) that everyone needed to earn at least an intermediate score on to be sworn in as a PCV next week. The great news is that everyone passed! In fact, I actually scored on the high end of the spectrum, qualifying as being “advanced” in speaking Portuguese. It makes me feel good, but I’m also very aware that there is a huge amount of learning still left to be done.
After the LPI, we were rewarded with some of the few precious moments of free time during PST and a group of 5 of us decided to spend it sleeping/resting under a mango tree at Roselia’s house. That may not sound that exciting to you back at home, but trust me, it was to us! Walking around Namaacha in the hot, relentless sun really made us appreciate the cool, swooping breeze that practically begged you to pull up a mat and lay down under the Mango tree’s shade. It felt like we were in some small, little oasis, picking and eating Litchis (a fruit) from a nearby tree, staring up at the swirling clouds above, and talking about our upcoming site placements. We can’t wait J
Sunday December 6th, 2009
By the time I rambled out of bed at 4:30am on Saturday morning to walk over to Noemi’s house for Yoga, my host mom was already dressed and heading out the door on her way to the local school to start preparing food for our end-of-training party later that day. The party was supposed to be providing food for all 67 volunteers and their families, so it definitely was no easy feat, not even for a group of hardworking Mozambican women. In fact, the food preparation was underway days before when they host mom’s had gotten together to kill and prepare 70 chickens and send 1 cow to the butcher.
The party started at 10am with speeches from several community members recognizing the efforts of the host families, the PCTs, and the community’s efforts as a whole in this year’s successful training (like I said, everyone passed their LPIs, so everyone will be able to swear in as PCVs on Tuesday). Afterward, the host families and PCTs were called up in front of the crowd to receive certificates recognizing the efforts of the families (a spectacle filled with loud hoots and hollers, singing, and even some dancing). When it came time for my family to be recognized, my host Mom and made our way up to the front doing an impromptu dance which elicited a loud roar from the audience before we retreated to our seats.
When it finally came time to eat, there was TONS of food, but it still wasn’t enough for everyone. Things like chicken and beef ran out early and a lot of the last people to be served were left with just rice and potatoes. People slowly began leaving the party as they finished up their food, but those who decided to stick around were rewarded with a fun dance party afterward. Probably the biggest highlight of the dance party was one song that all the health PCTs knew a dance to because we had to perform it earlier in PST. Even though it got a little old after a while, that didn’t stop us from playing the song 4 times before the hour long dance party was over!
I woke up today hoping I’d make a quick trip to Maputo to buy a few small things for my site, but my host mom was insistent that I stay in Namaacha in order to go to church and say goodbye to the congregation. She was right. I had been going to the church ever since I had arrived here in Namaacha, only missing a few Sundays here and there, and a lot of people had grown accustomed to seeing me around. It was only right to bite the bullet and say my goodbyes to them. That said, after having sat through the 4 hour long church service (!), I felt like maybe I could have just sent my host mom with a message from me and it would have had the same effect…
Nearly reaching the end of the service, I had almost escaped without making any dramatic speech when my mom signaled to me that if I wasn’t going to let the usher know that I needed to say a few words to the congregation, then she would. I conceded and got the attention of the usher, but had to sit and wait several minutes before the time was right. Even though I had just completed an oral exam with PC, the anxiousness that I felt in those few moments before speaking to the congregation was infinitely more nerve wrecking. When the time finally arrived and I was signaled to speak, I stood up and, with only a little awkwardness, informed the church that I’d soon be leaving, let them know where I’d be going and for how long, and closed by asking for prayers for my travels. All in all, I think the speech was well received and several people even came up to me after the service to personally wish me well on my journey. To say the least, it was a great feeling J
Tuesday, December 8th, 2009
All 67 PCT’s loaded up in PC vehicles and chapas this morning and headed into Maputo for our long-awaited swearing-in ceremony (during the 10 weeks of PST we aren’t actually considered PC volunteers, just PC trainees). Of course nothing can be as easy as simply heading into town here with PC. Somehow I managed to jump on the chapa that overheated 3 times, got royally lost, and completely died when finally rolling up to the front of the U.S. Charge D’affairs’ house, where we were having the swearing in ceremony.
The ceremony included a lot of speeches from PC staff members, U.S./Mozambican government officials, and even some PCT’s. Although the speeches all touched on slightly different topics, the overarching theme of all of them was highlighting the possibilities that lie ahead of us as PCVs and encouraging us to keep up the good work. The actual process of swearing-in came and went before we even knew what happened, but it was a pretty rewarding feeling afterwards to look around finally be able to call one another PCVs!
Afterwards, me and the 4 other new PCVs who will be working with Friends in Global Health got to meet with a few representatives from the NGO and talk about some of the details regarding the next several days. As it turns out, all the PCVs who are going to the Northern region of Mozambique will be flying to Nampula on Wednesday evening for the PC Supervisors Conference the following day. The conference will last for a day and provide all the volunteers an opportunity to talk with their supervisors/community contacts about expectations, job roles/responsibilities, and short term plans working towards community integration. On Friday most volunteers are heading out to their sites, but all the FGH and ICAP PCVs will instead be driving down to the Zambezia provincial capital city of Quelimane (where I went for my site visit) and meeting with NGO staff members for a few days before heading to our sites on Tuesday or Wednesday.
When I finally get to Nauela, my site, I don’t expect to have electricity, much less internet. Therefore, please bear with me as I try to keep you guys back at home as updated as possible on my comings and goings. I’ll do my best.
I’m soooo excited for site placement! Talk to you later.
One Love,
Michael
Check out the pictures below:
A group of most of my close Health PCV friends at the party recognizing our host families. From left to right: Emily, Josh, Michael, Yokho, Noemi (top), Roselia (bottom), and Amanda.
My host mom and I celebrating her receiving her certificate.
The whole Moz 14 Health group with our trainer Caroline to the far right.
The whole Moz 14 group at the host family party.
Some of the host moms getting ready to serve the food for the party. My host mom is in the middle wearing the blue apron.
Yohko eating and drinking it up!
Donna and Luis Luis (one of the cute, newly formed Moz 14 couples) enjoying the party.
Me dancing at the party after eating lunch!
“Tchau! Ate logo!” I hollered back to my host family as I stepped out of the house and hurriedly started toward the street. I was on my way to meet up with some PC friends to watch a movie at Amanda’s house and was trying to slyly escape because I didn’t want to be later than I already was. I had been messing around, killing time around my host family’s house for almost an hour waiting for dinner to be served and, now that I had finally eaten, the last thing I wanted to do was waste any more time with long goodbyes.
Just as the loud crash of my house’s metal gate rang out behind me, I felt a slight twitch in my front pocket letting me know that I had received a text on my cell phone. I wasn’t too eager to check it, thinking that it might be a request from my host mom to come back and check in with her, but I made a quick glance at it in stride and realized that the text was actually from Alycia, another PC friend of mine. In the short message she innocently invited me to drop by her host family’s party to eat some cake and, even though I was already running late, I figured that her house was on the way. Moreover, I thought “Really, how long would it take me to eat a piece of cake?” (For those of you who know my eating habits, you know what I mean!).
Walking up to Alycia’s house, I was invited inside by her host sisters and quickly realized upon entering that this was not going to be any quick grab-cake-and-go experience. For one, her host mom was still setting the table when I arrived, while the whole extended family was sitting around the room watching in anticipation. To further highlight the importance of the event, there was even a local photographer present to help capture the evening’s activities. “Ugh! This isn’t what I signed up for…” I thought to myself. It’s funny how host families’ parties have become such a burden here in Namaacha, especially as our time here has started to come to an end. It seems that every other night there is a birthday, anniversary, or going away party that some volunteer and their host families are insisting you come to. It’s an honor for sure, but it’s still something keeping you and your friends from just relaxing and chilling together.
While thinking about trying to get to the movie with my other friends, I noticed that only two other volunteers were at the party and knew that I wasn’t going to be able to make a quick run for it and my absence not be felt. Sitting down next to Alycia’s host father, I decided to make the best of it and just go with the flow. After starting some small talk with the other party guests, I flipped out my cell phone and sent a resigned message to Amanda, “be there later. don’t wait to start movie for me. :(”
With music playing in the background and food aplenty set before us, the mood of my conversation remained somber as Alycia’s host father and his friend explained to me about their experiences in Mozambique’s armed forces. Even though they served in the military after the country’s civil war, it was still two long, rough years of their lives where they were uprooted from their homes and forced to train and stay on active duty several hours away from their friends and family. This is not a unique experience: two years of military service is mandatory for all Mozambican men.
Relating this to the issues that public health officials regularly confront in Mozambique, you begin to wonder how this military indoctrination at a crucial developmental stage in a man’s life affects the general Mozambican masculine state of mind in the areas of sexuality and the treatment of women. Although I’m sure there are some soldiers who continue to remain abstinent or faithful to one partner, I’m confident that sexual promiscuity is prevalent and widely accepted among the displaced population of young soldiers. Adding to the dangerous mix, almost the entire population of males in Mozambique has been trained to be “war ready” and I believe that you can sense that callused, detached mindset when trying to discuss the topics of mortality and the value of life in relation to public health issues, such as HIV/AIDS, with middle-age Mozambican males.
As I understood it, for as long as Mozambique has been a country, since 1975, all men have been required to complete at least two years military service. Back in the day this draft made sense while trying to combat any unrest following the independence of the country and the ensuing civil war. Now, however, Mozambique is decades removed from war and yet there exists a sense among Mozambicans that a military draft is still necessary.
Naively asking Alycia’s family who they thought Mozambique could/would be attacked by, one older woman earnestly blurted out “RENAMO!”, the current minority political party in the country and the former combatant during the country’s civil war. Thinking to myself about the implications of this outburst, I began to project the situation on the current U.S. political climate. It’s hard for me to imagine the feeling that would exist in America if people were scared that the Republicans or Democrats were going to try to violently overthrow the administration if they lost the elections. This, however, is a reality in Mozambique. In fact, just the past month, the leader of RENAMO made a televised announcement urging the people of Mozambique to rebel against the government following the lopsided national elections that were widely thought to be fraudulent. Luckily, these pleads weren’t heeded by the country’s population and things were able to continue on without incident. Regardless, being in a country where the tension between the opposing political parties is so high makes you notice how devastating the effects of a civil war could be. Neighbors who help one another, schools and hospitals that serve the needy, businesses that provide essential daily items for the population are all put at risk of collapsing during a civil war. Here we are some many years removed from the country’s civil war and things still feel so sensitive.
After taking all this in, I started to feel the effects of the recent flu-like illness I was still recovering from and ended up calling it a night soon after. I said my thanks to all the party guests, excused myself, and walked out the door, going home with a sense of uncertainty and more questions than answers about what my role here in Mozambique will end up being.
Wednesday December 2nd, 2009
With my head still trying to grasp the ramifications of the conversation at Alycia’s party, the PCTs were lucky enough to receive a visit today from the U.S. Charge D’affairs (Mozambique doesn’t currently have an ambassador) to put the current social, economic, and political climate here in Mozambique in perspective according to his experiences and beliefs (noticeably very politically charged and thus very different from the approach a PCV might take).
The Charge D’affairs, Todd Chapman, was introduced to the room of PCTs by our country director and at first glance came off looking rather stuck up and goofy with his distinctly-parted, meticulously-groomed hair cut. After only a few moments in front of the crowd of PCTs, however, my initial impression was surprising reversed by his frank and honest recollection about his experiences in country.
The take home message of the Charge D’affairs’ short presentation could be summed up as such: when trying to assess the current state of Mozambique, remember where it came from. Mr. Chapman first arrived in Mozambique in 1993, right after the end of the civil war between FRELIMO and RENAMO, and he couldn’t emphasize enough how far the country has come in the past 16 years. In the early 90’s, Mozambique was the poorest country in the world, based on per capita income, with around 80% of the population living in absolute poverty. Since then, there has been a 30% reduction in the percentage of people living in absolute poverty and the per capita income has quadrupled. That said, because it was so low to start with, Mozambique still remains among the 10 poorest countries in the world. After nearly 2 decades of aid, signs of sustainable improvements are suspect at best. In fact, Mozambique is considered one of the 10 most aid-dependent countries in the world. Perhaps best exemplifying this is the fact that, as I mentioned in a previous blog, over 70% of health care system is paid for by outside sources.
When looking at Mozambique’s shortcomings today, it’s hard to imagine how much worse the state of the country was less than two decades ago following the war for independence and the ensuing civil war. The country’s infrastructure (roads, schools, hospitals, electricity, etc.) had been completely decimated by the fighting. For example, the road from Maputo to Namaacha, which now takes an hour or so to travel, took more than 3+ hours to travel in 1993 due to the unbroken stretch of pot holes lining the road’s length. If that isn’t enough to give a picture of how bad it was in the country, think about how nearly 80% of all hospitals and schools were destroyed in combat. (PC education volunteers recently informed us how it’s not unusual for middle-aged men and women to go to night school now to try and regain the education they missed out on during/after the wars. In fact, the situation is so desperate that people even go to night school in places where there is no electricity and must learn by candlelight. Also keep in mind that these are individuals who are often up at 5am and work till their night school shift from 5-10pm, after which they have to go home, take care of household chores, and do it all over again the next day.)
To make matters more complicated, when peace keepers arrived in Mozambique shortly after the end of the civil war and started trying to demilitarize camps from both sides, they quickly realized that there was a whole generation of boy soldiers who didn’t have anyone or anything to go back to. These young men were raised to be soldiers and didn’t even know where they were from, much less who their family was. For those who were able to transition out of the military lifestyle, the early 90’s was a time where people remained inactive because scattered throughout the country were thousands of unmarked, unaccounted for landmines which made it quite treacherous for people to get out and start rebuilding the country.
Although many would argue that the climb up from this low point has been slow and corrupt, I’m torn when trying to assess whether international aid has been helping or hurting Mozambique. In the eyes of the U.S. Charge D’affairs, I’m sure that the aid has made a tremendously beneficial impact. But, the question of Why should the U.S. continue to give aid to Mozambique? is becoming harder answer in light of the global economic crisis and the fact that some people would argue that there are many indications that the aid is actually hurting the country’s movement towards democracy and economic success (the Charge D’affairs gave the example of the recent elections where there were reported incidents of ballot stuffing and an effort to exclude an up and coming third party from many of the country’s voting regions)
Regardless of international aid, the Mr. Chapman, educated with a strong background in economics, took the opportunity to answer the question of what he thinks Mozambique could do economically to improve its current state of affairs. He emphasized that Mozambique should expand its ability to capitalize on its natural resources (i.e agriculture and mineral wealth) and decrease its emphasis on expanding industry (he feels that Mozambique would really struggle to have a large industry presence because it would have trouble competing with neighboring South Africa and international giant China). Instead, the country should continue to build up infrastructure (i.e. reliable electricity, schools, hospitals, roads, etc) to attract more tourism and small businesses, while also building the country’s human capacity by getting more people who are working in Mozambique trained and educated.
All of these reflections (although some were politically charged and contrary to what PC is all about) have given me a slightly different perspective heading into my upcoming service and I trust that it has taught you back at home some new things too. I hope it will give me more patience with myself and my work (I know now it will be a long, slow process) and that it will inspire you to continue to do some of your own research on the subject back at home. As I move forward, please remind me of this blog when I seem down about lack of “forward progress” because no matter how slow things seem to be moving, I have to remember that Mozambique has come a long way.
Friday December 4th, 2009
I was sitting in my room on Thursday evening, trying to buckle down and put a capstone on the journal write-ups from the past few days, when my friend Kat came over and playfully convinced me to come out of my self-inflicted isolation and goof off with her and some of the neighborhood kids for a bit. A few minutes later, there we were in her front yard singing and dancing along to the blaring tune of Beyonce’s “If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it” (I don’t know if that’s the real name of it or not, but you know what I’m talking about) coming from the nearby barraca (a place where they sell alcohol) surrounded by 20 kids from the neighboring houses. At the end of the song, Kat and I collapsed into each other’s arms, out of breath and sweating, but smiling from ear to ear. It was a short-lived moment in comparison to other events during my experience here in Namaacha, but definitely one of the last one’s that I’d ever forget.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t an isolated incident of forgetting to be focused on the people I’m actually here to serve. I am constantly trying to remind myself to recognize how it’s not annoying, rather great that my host family brother and sisters are practically kicking in my door to play with me and how special it is that everyone I walk by in the neighborhood screams “mano Michael” (they pronounce it Me-Shy-El) to greet me. Nevertheless, I’m trying and I’m having fun doing itJ
One “business issue” we had going on today was our LPI (an oral exam PC uses to measure your grasp of a language) that everyone needed to earn at least an intermediate score on to be sworn in as a PCV next week. The great news is that everyone passed! In fact, I actually scored on the high end of the spectrum, qualifying as being “advanced” in speaking Portuguese. It makes me feel good, but I’m also very aware that there is a huge amount of learning still left to be done.
After the LPI, we were rewarded with some of the few precious moments of free time during PST and a group of 5 of us decided to spend it sleeping/resting under a mango tree at Roselia’s house. That may not sound that exciting to you back at home, but trust me, it was to us! Walking around Namaacha in the hot, relentless sun really made us appreciate the cool, swooping breeze that practically begged you to pull up a mat and lay down under the Mango tree’s shade. It felt like we were in some small, little oasis, picking and eating Litchis (a fruit) from a nearby tree, staring up at the swirling clouds above, and talking about our upcoming site placements. We can’t wait J
Sunday December 6th, 2009
By the time I rambled out of bed at 4:30am on Saturday morning to walk over to Noemi’s house for Yoga, my host mom was already dressed and heading out the door on her way to the local school to start preparing food for our end-of-training party later that day. The party was supposed to be providing food for all 67 volunteers and their families, so it definitely was no easy feat, not even for a group of hardworking Mozambican women. In fact, the food preparation was underway days before when they host mom’s had gotten together to kill and prepare 70 chickens and send 1 cow to the butcher.
The party started at 10am with speeches from several community members recognizing the efforts of the host families, the PCTs, and the community’s efforts as a whole in this year’s successful training (like I said, everyone passed their LPIs, so everyone will be able to swear in as PCVs on Tuesday). Afterward, the host families and PCTs were called up in front of the crowd to receive certificates recognizing the efforts of the families (a spectacle filled with loud hoots and hollers, singing, and even some dancing). When it came time for my family to be recognized, my host Mom and made our way up to the front doing an impromptu dance which elicited a loud roar from the audience before we retreated to our seats.
When it finally came time to eat, there was TONS of food, but it still wasn’t enough for everyone. Things like chicken and beef ran out early and a lot of the last people to be served were left with just rice and potatoes. People slowly began leaving the party as they finished up their food, but those who decided to stick around were rewarded with a fun dance party afterward. Probably the biggest highlight of the dance party was one song that all the health PCTs knew a dance to because we had to perform it earlier in PST. Even though it got a little old after a while, that didn’t stop us from playing the song 4 times before the hour long dance party was over!
I woke up today hoping I’d make a quick trip to Maputo to buy a few small things for my site, but my host mom was insistent that I stay in Namaacha in order to go to church and say goodbye to the congregation. She was right. I had been going to the church ever since I had arrived here in Namaacha, only missing a few Sundays here and there, and a lot of people had grown accustomed to seeing me around. It was only right to bite the bullet and say my goodbyes to them. That said, after having sat through the 4 hour long church service (!), I felt like maybe I could have just sent my host mom with a message from me and it would have had the same effect…
Nearly reaching the end of the service, I had almost escaped without making any dramatic speech when my mom signaled to me that if I wasn’t going to let the usher know that I needed to say a few words to the congregation, then she would. I conceded and got the attention of the usher, but had to sit and wait several minutes before the time was right. Even though I had just completed an oral exam with PC, the anxiousness that I felt in those few moments before speaking to the congregation was infinitely more nerve wrecking. When the time finally arrived and I was signaled to speak, I stood up and, with only a little awkwardness, informed the church that I’d soon be leaving, let them know where I’d be going and for how long, and closed by asking for prayers for my travels. All in all, I think the speech was well received and several people even came up to me after the service to personally wish me well on my journey. To say the least, it was a great feeling J
Tuesday, December 8th, 2009
All 67 PCT’s loaded up in PC vehicles and chapas this morning and headed into Maputo for our long-awaited swearing-in ceremony (during the 10 weeks of PST we aren’t actually considered PC volunteers, just PC trainees). Of course nothing can be as easy as simply heading into town here with PC. Somehow I managed to jump on the chapa that overheated 3 times, got royally lost, and completely died when finally rolling up to the front of the U.S. Charge D’affairs’ house, where we were having the swearing in ceremony.
The ceremony included a lot of speeches from PC staff members, U.S./Mozambican government officials, and even some PCT’s. Although the speeches all touched on slightly different topics, the overarching theme of all of them was highlighting the possibilities that lie ahead of us as PCVs and encouraging us to keep up the good work. The actual process of swearing-in came and went before we even knew what happened, but it was a pretty rewarding feeling afterwards to look around finally be able to call one another PCVs!
Afterwards, me and the 4 other new PCVs who will be working with Friends in Global Health got to meet with a few representatives from the NGO and talk about some of the details regarding the next several days. As it turns out, all the PCVs who are going to the Northern region of Mozambique will be flying to Nampula on Wednesday evening for the PC Supervisors Conference the following day. The conference will last for a day and provide all the volunteers an opportunity to talk with their supervisors/community contacts about expectations, job roles/responsibilities, and short term plans working towards community integration. On Friday most volunteers are heading out to their sites, but all the FGH and ICAP PCVs will instead be driving down to the Zambezia provincial capital city of Quelimane (where I went for my site visit) and meeting with NGO staff members for a few days before heading to our sites on Tuesday or Wednesday.
When I finally get to Nauela, my site, I don’t expect to have electricity, much less internet. Therefore, please bear with me as I try to keep you guys back at home as updated as possible on my comings and goings. I’ll do my best.
I’m soooo excited for site placement! Talk to you later.
One Love,
Michael
Check out the pictures below:
A group of most of my close Health PCV friends at the party recognizing our host families. From left to right: Emily, Josh, Michael, Yokho, Noemi (top), Roselia (bottom), and Amanda.
My host mom and I celebrating her receiving her certificate.
The whole Moz 14 Health group with our trainer Caroline to the far right.
The whole Moz 14 group at the host family party.
Some of the host moms getting ready to serve the food for the party. My host mom is in the middle wearing the blue apron.
Yohko eating and drinking it up!
Donna and Luis Luis (one of the cute, newly formed Moz 14 couples) enjoying the party.
Me dancing at the party after eating lunch!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Great Thanksgiving... Minus Getting Sick
Wednesday November 25th, 2009
I know that I already mentioned some details about my Thanksgiving here in Mozambique (i.e. – my site placement), but I want to back up and let you all know what we, the PCTs, did to celebrate the occasion since it is not, for obvious reasons, a recognized holiday here. And to head off any confusion, the date listed above was no mistake. We actually celebrated Thanksgiving on Wednesday due to some PC administrative reasons.
The day started off as any other “hub day” would, with all 67 PCTs (we lost another Health PCT the other day) cramming under the open-air tiki hut outside Casa Grande and sitting through a few sessions about Health and Safety & Security. After a few hours of sessions, we were supposed to be released to play football before an early afternoon Thanksgiving day meal, during which we’d supposedly find out our site placements. We started the first session late and by the start of the second we all knew that changes would have to be made. After sitting and watching the morning’s time fly by, Rueben, the PC Moz Country Director, abruptly announced to the anxious group of football-ready PCTs that the people with our site placements were almost here and that they’d be extending the morning session a little further to allow them to arrive and let us know our site placements before our interval. Upon their arrival they built up the suspense a little, gave each one of us a sealed envelope with our name on it, and when everyone had finally received their envelope let us all rip them open to discover the piece of paper that told us where we would be living for the next two years.
Kristie, the Health Assistant Peace Corps Director (APCD) for Mozambique, and some other PC staff members getting ready to start handing out our site placements
The room was filled with joy and sorrow at the same time. Strong friendships that had formed over the past 8 weeks were geographically torn apart in a flash, while others were bound that more tightly. For me, there is no one who was placed around me that I wish wasn’t, but at the same time there are a lot of people that are being placed in the southern part of Mozambique that I will miss: Matt, Jenna, Donna, Louise to name a few. In reality I don’t know how often I’ll even be seeing the people in my own province and maybe that’s for the best because it’ll make me rely more heavily on the relationships within my community. Regardless of the other PCVs that at nearby my site though, I really like how my site sounds on paper and can’t wait to get there. To finish up the site placement session, we all gathered at the front of the room and placed small sticky tabs with our names on them in the corresponding spots on the map where we were each going to be placed. See the map covered with sticky tabs, it was a comforting feeling visualizing that almost anywhere we go in Mozambique there’ll be a volunteer not too far away. I’ll have to keep that in mind when, down the road, I get a feeling like I’m all alone in this country.
A quick look at all the PC Moz 14 volunteers (maybe a few are missing?) and their site placements.
As you can imagine, all of this significantly ate into our interval where we were supposed to be celebrating Thanksgiving by playing possibly the first game of (American) football that Namaacha had ever seen. Faced with this time obstacle, we decided to delay the game to the next day, a decision that would later have a significant impact on my health and wellbeing, and instead just have everyone run home and fetch/prepare their food for the Thanksgiving Day meal.
That said, we actually had to plan the meal several weeks in advance because so many of the foods that we take for granted as being easily accessible in the US are not widely available here in Mozambique. The PC staff agreed to provide the meat (beef and turkey), drinks, and utensils as long as the PCTs provided the sides and desserts. After much thought and a little deliberation we decided to split up and prepare mashed potatoes and gravy, mac and cheese, green beans, stuffing, beets, corn, rice, steamed squash, pumpkin pie, flan, cookies, cakes, brownies, and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t even remember right now. Needless to say, the potluck Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!
Thursday November 26th, 2009
Let me qualify the last statement of Wednesday’s blog post by saying that, at the time, the Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!... A day removed from it, however, I started having muscle pains and headaches that came and went throughout the day(I’m not sure if these were directly related to the food consumption or not, but several others people had similar complaints). When the afternoon rolled around and push came to shove, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let those minor road blocks keep from me from playing some good ol’ fashion Thanksgiving Day pigskin. Bring it on ;-) And, you know what?, upon arriving at the field and seeing people tossing around a football, the rushing adrenaline quickly made my minor aches and pains fade away. I played alright, but my team, mostly composed of Health PCTs, valiantly fell to our rivals, a team mostly composed of Education PCTs, 10-7 in a two-hand tag game filled with plenty of “accidental” tackling (mostly by the PCT girls!). Limping home from the game, the adrenaline slowly began to leave my system and I began to realize that I definitely should not have played. I hadn’t even made it back to my host family’s house before the headache returned with a vengeance and by the time I had been home for an hour my bowels had required four separate trips to the casa de banho. L
At the end of the day, a redeeming factor to it all was receiving calls from my family back in the States right before I was about to pass out on my bed and then, the next morning, from Ricky and Chris. Thank you all so much for your support! I’m sorry I was sick at the time we talked, but I just want to let you know that, even though I probably didn’t sound like it on the phone, it was great to hear from you! J
Friday November 27th, 2009
Today should have been a day of rest. Emphasis on the words “should have”. Instead, I had to do my long-anticipated practicum with Noemi, a fellow PCT, as a sort of capstone to the whole PC training process. I woke up feeling pretty bad, but after resting up, taking some medicine, and talking to Ricky and Chris on the phone, I was able to make it out of bed, put on my best smile, and just fake it. Our practicum was geared towards people who prepare the food for their household, mostly older women, but actually drew a nice array of people including one young man and several teenage girls. During the discussion portion of our presentation, the exchange of knowledge between the older and younger generations was actually pretty encouraging, showing us that the people who came were really getting into it (a lot of the people who come to these practicum presentations are PCT host family members and are just there to be bodies in the audience). Even though there were a few mistakes here and there, I think that both Noemi and I walked away from the presentation feeling pretty good about things, especially considering the circumstances of me being sick and all.
I said goodbye to Noemi shortly after the end of the presentation and spent the rest of the day lying balled-up on my bed, decked out in winter clothes while trying to combat the chilly feeling encompassing my entire body. Near the end of the day I asked my PCT friend Roselia, who I’ve been doing Yoga with in the mornings, to come over and meditate with me to “speak with the illness”(she had suggested this for another friend ours who was previously sick). Now, after heavily studying evidence-based curriculum in areas like biochemistry and microbiology throughout high school and college, I don’t know how much of this is legit or not, but I really did start to feel immediately better while meditating and, the kicker is that, about a hour or so after we stopped meditating my fever broke and I’ve been feeling great ever since. Who would have figured?! I’m not totally convinced it wasn’t just a coincidence, but it seems to have worked/at least helped this time, and for that, I’ve very grateful! J
This is a view of the wall surrounding my host family’s yard with the sunrise in the background. Sunrises while doing yoga is a definite “high” each morning J
I know that I already mentioned some details about my Thanksgiving here in Mozambique (i.e. – my site placement), but I want to back up and let you all know what we, the PCTs, did to celebrate the occasion since it is not, for obvious reasons, a recognized holiday here. And to head off any confusion, the date listed above was no mistake. We actually celebrated Thanksgiving on Wednesday due to some PC administrative reasons.
The day started off as any other “hub day” would, with all 67 PCTs (we lost another Health PCT the other day) cramming under the open-air tiki hut outside Casa Grande and sitting through a few sessions about Health and Safety & Security. After a few hours of sessions, we were supposed to be released to play football before an early afternoon Thanksgiving day meal, during which we’d supposedly find out our site placements. We started the first session late and by the start of the second we all knew that changes would have to be made. After sitting and watching the morning’s time fly by, Rueben, the PC Moz Country Director, abruptly announced to the anxious group of football-ready PCTs that the people with our site placements were almost here and that they’d be extending the morning session a little further to allow them to arrive and let us know our site placements before our interval. Upon their arrival they built up the suspense a little, gave each one of us a sealed envelope with our name on it, and when everyone had finally received their envelope let us all rip them open to discover the piece of paper that told us where we would be living for the next two years.
Kristie, the Health Assistant Peace Corps Director (APCD) for Mozambique, and some other PC staff members getting ready to start handing out our site placements
The room was filled with joy and sorrow at the same time. Strong friendships that had formed over the past 8 weeks were geographically torn apart in a flash, while others were bound that more tightly. For me, there is no one who was placed around me that I wish wasn’t, but at the same time there are a lot of people that are being placed in the southern part of Mozambique that I will miss: Matt, Jenna, Donna, Louise to name a few. In reality I don’t know how often I’ll even be seeing the people in my own province and maybe that’s for the best because it’ll make me rely more heavily on the relationships within my community. Regardless of the other PCVs that at nearby my site though, I really like how my site sounds on paper and can’t wait to get there. To finish up the site placement session, we all gathered at the front of the room and placed small sticky tabs with our names on them in the corresponding spots on the map where we were each going to be placed. See the map covered with sticky tabs, it was a comforting feeling visualizing that almost anywhere we go in Mozambique there’ll be a volunteer not too far away. I’ll have to keep that in mind when, down the road, I get a feeling like I’m all alone in this country.
A quick look at all the PC Moz 14 volunteers (maybe a few are missing?) and their site placements.
As you can imagine, all of this significantly ate into our interval where we were supposed to be celebrating Thanksgiving by playing possibly the first game of (American) football that Namaacha had ever seen. Faced with this time obstacle, we decided to delay the game to the next day, a decision that would later have a significant impact on my health and wellbeing, and instead just have everyone run home and fetch/prepare their food for the Thanksgiving Day meal.
That said, we actually had to plan the meal several weeks in advance because so many of the foods that we take for granted as being easily accessible in the US are not widely available here in Mozambique. The PC staff agreed to provide the meat (beef and turkey), drinks, and utensils as long as the PCTs provided the sides and desserts. After much thought and a little deliberation we decided to split up and prepare mashed potatoes and gravy, mac and cheese, green beans, stuffing, beets, corn, rice, steamed squash, pumpkin pie, flan, cookies, cakes, brownies, and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t even remember right now. Needless to say, the potluck Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!
Thursday November 26th, 2009
Let me qualify the last statement of Wednesday’s blog post by saying that, at the time, the Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!... A day removed from it, however, I started having muscle pains and headaches that came and went throughout the day(I’m not sure if these were directly related to the food consumption or not, but several others people had similar complaints). When the afternoon rolled around and push came to shove, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let those minor road blocks keep from me from playing some good ol’ fashion Thanksgiving Day pigskin. Bring it on ;-) And, you know what?, upon arriving at the field and seeing people tossing around a football, the rushing adrenaline quickly made my minor aches and pains fade away. I played alright, but my team, mostly composed of Health PCTs, valiantly fell to our rivals, a team mostly composed of Education PCTs, 10-7 in a two-hand tag game filled with plenty of “accidental” tackling (mostly by the PCT girls!). Limping home from the game, the adrenaline slowly began to leave my system and I began to realize that I definitely should not have played. I hadn’t even made it back to my host family’s house before the headache returned with a vengeance and by the time I had been home for an hour my bowels had required four separate trips to the casa de banho. L
At the end of the day, a redeeming factor to it all was receiving calls from my family back in the States right before I was about to pass out on my bed and then, the next morning, from Ricky and Chris. Thank you all so much for your support! I’m sorry I was sick at the time we talked, but I just want to let you know that, even though I probably didn’t sound like it on the phone, it was great to hear from you! J
Friday November 27th, 2009
Today should have been a day of rest. Emphasis on the words “should have”. Instead, I had to do my long-anticipated practicum with Noemi, a fellow PCT, as a sort of capstone to the whole PC training process. I woke up feeling pretty bad, but after resting up, taking some medicine, and talking to Ricky and Chris on the phone, I was able to make it out of bed, put on my best smile, and just fake it. Our practicum was geared towards people who prepare the food for their household, mostly older women, but actually drew a nice array of people including one young man and several teenage girls. During the discussion portion of our presentation, the exchange of knowledge between the older and younger generations was actually pretty encouraging, showing us that the people who came were really getting into it (a lot of the people who come to these practicum presentations are PCT host family members and are just there to be bodies in the audience). Even though there were a few mistakes here and there, I think that both Noemi and I walked away from the presentation feeling pretty good about things, especially considering the circumstances of me being sick and all.
I said goodbye to Noemi shortly after the end of the presentation and spent the rest of the day lying balled-up on my bed, decked out in winter clothes while trying to combat the chilly feeling encompassing my entire body. Near the end of the day I asked my PCT friend Roselia, who I’ve been doing Yoga with in the mornings, to come over and meditate with me to “speak with the illness”(she had suggested this for another friend ours who was previously sick). Now, after heavily studying evidence-based curriculum in areas like biochemistry and microbiology throughout high school and college, I don’t know how much of this is legit or not, but I really did start to feel immediately better while meditating and, the kicker is that, about a hour or so after we stopped meditating my fever broke and I’ve been feeling great ever since. Who would have figured?! I’m not totally convinced it wasn’t just a coincidence, but it seems to have worked/at least helped this time, and for that, I’ve very grateful! J
This is a view of the wall surrounding my host family’s yard with the sunrise in the background. Sunrises while doing yoga is a definite “high” each morning J
Thursday, November 26, 2009
“I’m as African as African can be…”
Wednesday November 18th, 2009
“…and I’ve never seen a traditional dance like THAT!” Caroline (the PC Health Program Trainer here in Mozambique) explained to the group of PC health trainees as we discussed our observations regarding some sexual references during a local dance performance we had just witnessed. In fact, what had caught people off guard was not the repeated pelvis thrusts that occurred throughout the dance (typical in many traditional African dances), but rather the culmination of the song where the lead dancer put his hand down his pants and stuck his finger out of his undone zipper. Even though some of the moves were notably influenced by African culture, the show resembled a hiphop dance scene from the movie “Step Up” more than anything else. The performance by the group of young men, as Caroline pointed out to us, actually gave us a lot of insight into the generation of young Mozambicans that we will be working with who are currently experiencing a huge transition of cultural influence in their society.
Even though many European countries carved up and forced themselves upon most of Africa in the 1800’s and 1900’s, I believe that the western cultural influence which is now penetrating African society is arguably greater than ever before. While colonialism forced new languages and social structures on many African tribes, the local languages and customs persisted and were highly prevalent in everyday life. Now, on the other hand, although the current generation of Mozambican youth continues to get certain aspects of their culture from their Zulu and Shangana (here in Namaacha) heritage, there is a huge amount of influence from foreign sources that extends beyond the realms of government and economy to profoundly influence family life. This influence, in the case of my host family for example, most often comes in the subtle and seductive form of Brazilian and Portuguese television programming, American and European movies and music, and a general influx of ideas from organizations and individuals from all over the world who set up camp in foreign countries. Although one might argue that this influx of knowledge and culture greatly benefits the upcoming generation of Mozambicans, it has a detracting side to it as well. Of all the 6 children in my host family, for example, only one, my oldest brother Lissaio, can actually speak Shangana. To combat this trend the government has implemented programs to revitalize local culture by teaching native languages in schools, but these programs are few and far between.
On a personal note, after having been in Mozambique for a little less than 2 months, I’ve already started to question the presence and motives of international NGO’s and ex-pats (not excluding myself) who come to Africa to help build infrastructure and/or address public health problems, but who often bring with them their own agendas and end up causing a lot more problems than providing solutions. I am not saying that we should stop offering aid to people in developing countries, but instead I am trying to make it one of my foremost goals to not push my agenda when serving the people of my future community. We’ll see how well I hold true to that one…
Friday November 20th, 2009
I have a blog entry for this day that I'll be sending out to people on an individual basis because of its sensitive content. If you would like to see this entry, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com and I'll try to email you the entry ASAP.
Saturday November 21st, 2009
It was only slightly drizzling (a significant improvement in recent weather patterns) as I stepped out of my house and started up the hill towards the city center of Namaacha. It had been raining the night before though, so the roads were pretty muddy and it was battle with every step I took, having to tug on my sandals just to get them back out of the matope (shangana for “mud”). I was running a little late and wasn’t sure where I was going exactly, but I knew that PC had scheduled a visit with a curandeiro (a traditional healer) somewhere in Namaacha so I was pretty ready and willing make the early morning trip, even in less than ideal conditions, to have the new experience.
A look at the mountains from Barrio 25 during a quick lull in the rains.
After the initial confusion, I found myself with my language group being led down a wet, rocky mountain side, whose dirt had been scrapped away by the wind and rain, towards the curandeiro’s house. Although the path looked especially daunting, the rocks were actually not very slippery, surprisingly easy to walk on, and sort of functioned like an paved, albeit uneven road for the barrio.
When we finally arrived at the house of the curandeiro, another PC language group had just started their visit so we had to stand outside the consultation room (a circular mud-block hut, about 10 feet in diameter, topped with thatch roofing and completely separate from his actual house) under a crammed covered patio and make small talk while waiting our turn. When the other group finished their visit after 30 minutes or so and we were finally able to enter the consultation room, the curandeiro asked us to take our shoes off before entering and then sit on the straw mat stretched out on the floor in front of him. The curandeiro was a middle-aged man, probably somewhere in his early 30s, whose dark black skin dramatically contrasted the white and red capulana that he wore around his waist. Luckily for us, he spoke Portuguese very slowly and clearly and I was able to understand most, if not all, of what he told us.
Our visit with the curandeiro started with him explaining to us the preparation that goes into a consultation and how a typical consultation happens. As we sat there star struck, he rapidly pointed out items hanging from the walls of the room that play important roles in the consultation: differently designed capulanas he wears in accordance to the type of consult, head dresses that that patient must wear, various jars of herbs and animal skin, etc. He then went on to tell us how, when a patient arrives for a consult, they are not supposed to tell the curandeiro what’s wrong. Instead, the curandeiro takes a small cup filled with coins, shells, and other materials, shakes them, and the releases them onto the floor to make a pattern. He didn’t explain exactly how he reads the patterns that they make, but apparently it tells him why the patient is visiting and they move on from there with the appropriate ritual or herbal remedy. On a normal day, he guesses that he’ll see anywhere between 10-15 patients. And to me that’s very interesting because here, in a relatively urban area (like Namaacha) where access to the hospital is relatively easy, the cost to find transportation to the hospital is minimal and the care at the hospital is, most of the time, free. On the other hand, a curandeiro always charges a fee. So even when almost everyone in the area is strapped for cash, you know that money isn’t the most important factor in many people’s health decisions.
According to the curandeiro we visited, between 60-70% of Mozambicans have visited/still visit a curandeiro for medical treatment. People seek out medical treatment from curandeiros for various reasons. Even though the public health care system here in Mozambique is free of cost, there are still plenty of barriers to entry and oftentimes a visit to the local curandeiro is the more practical option. For example, with over 20 million people in Mozambique and less than 900 doctors, compared to over 15,000 curandeiros, it is safe to say that there is a significant deficiency of health care professionals, resulting in very long wait times at the hospitals. Additionally, hospitals are only located in district and provincial capital cities, so if you need to receive treatment, you may need to travel very far just to wait in those long lines. Another important aspect of visiting curandeiros is the emphasis on spiritual and emotional healing which oftentimes the official medical system tends to put less emphasis on or ignore completely. Discussing it a little more, some PC friends and I have hypothesized that maybe paying something for health-care services gives the patient a sense of comfort in knowing that the service rendered is “valuable” and the patient literally and figuratively has bought into the treatment method.
The curandeiro we met with is the district secretary of AMETRAMO, Association of Traditional Healers of Mozambique, and thus he was very sensitive in the wording of his explanations regarding the struggle between traditional healing and western medicine. While sidestepping some of the more direct questions regarding this struggle, he portrayed the current health care situation as one with shared responsibilities between both entities. He recognized that some problems are indeed biologically based, but that curandeiros have many herbal solutions that they can use to treat them. He also conceded that there are some diseases are biologically based that curandeiros haven’t yet figured out how to treat them (ie HIV) and instead they refer these patients to the area hospital. However, he was insistent that many physical illnesses are actually rooted in emotional and spiritual issues that curandeiros can best treat through particular rituals.
One must take all of that with a grain of salt though, because a patient doesn’t typically walk into a curandeiro with a hospital diagnosis. In fact, as I mentioned earlier, the curandeiro usually won’t even permit the patient to tell him what’s wrong with him. Instead, the curandeiro relies on their collection of shells, coins, and other spiritual items to help determine what the patient’s illness is. In the end it’s tough to say if a curandeiro will always refer a patient with a biologically-based problem that they can’t treat to the hospital. An omnipresent force of conflict in western medicine is the influence of money. It’s no different in traditional healing. Curandeiros are not typically ultra-wealthy members of the community and thus they need to earn money just like everyone else. As one can easily infer from this situation, there is a significant incentive to holding on to patients instead of referring them to the hospital.
That all said, there is a saying back in the States among general practitioners that 70% of acute patients will get better without the intervention of the doctor. Yet, not only do we continue to still see all of these patients, but we even encourage most people to go to the doctor more often. This seemingly insinuates that the illnesses stopping are directly related to the doctor’s interventions, but this is not always the case. So I ask, in this instance, is western medicine and traditional medicine really that different? Just a thought…
Sunday November 22nd, 2009
Since arriving back from site visits over a week ago it has been overcast and rainy every day, minus a 3 or 4 hour interval one afternoon. It’s been so bad that I’ve actually been called out by my host family for acting sad or depressed. And you know what? They were right! I’m a Florida boy and I was pretty bummed out by the weather. To give you a better picture of how intense the rain has been, two days ago it was so bad that 3 houses in Namaacha actually caved in and were destroyed because the rain eroded the mud “mortar” that held the houses’ stone exterior together. (As a side note, it’s amazing that I didn’t even notice the collapsed houses until my brother pointed it out to me! I can be so absorbed in small things that I notice the huge ones.)
That all said, after a week of rain, I woke up this morning singing to myself, finally…. it’s gonna be a bright (a bright), a bright, a bright sun shinny day! I took the opportunity to wash and dry clothes (I had been getting a lot of jabs from my host family about having worn the same pair of pants for the past three days), get mud off shoes, and, most importantly, get out and have some fun!
Check out the photos below from my long anticipated hike to the waterfalls with my PC friends and our host families:
Walking in the shade to the waterfalls just outside of Namaacha.
A better look at the scenery while walking to the waterfalls.
Yokho, Roselia, and Noemi with our host brothers and sisters at the upper waterfalls.
Me joining in on the photo action in front of the upper falls.
Josh feeling me up from behind in front of the big waterfall.
Roselia and my brother, Ramadaan, chilling on a rock in front of the big fall.
Amanda's brother and my brother, Ramadaan, climbing a tree in front of the big fall.
Yokho, Noemi, Roselia, and Josh with our host family members enjoying the sunset as we walk back to Namaacha.
Wednesday November 25th, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I miss you all! I’ll write more about my Thanksgiving experience and such later, but I just wanted to let you all know what my site placement is! **drum roll please** I will be spending the next two years in the rural town of Nauela in the northern part of the Zambezia province partnered with the international-NGO Friends in Global Health working with People Living With HIV/AIDS (PLWHA). My site is located in northern part Mozambique, close to the Mt. Namuli (the second highest mountain in the country, I think). Go check it out on google maps or something J! Now I know where I’m going and what in theory I’ll be doing, but once I get to sight we’ll see how everything pans out. Either way, I’m really excited!
“…and I’ve never seen a traditional dance like THAT!” Caroline (the PC Health Program Trainer here in Mozambique) explained to the group of PC health trainees as we discussed our observations regarding some sexual references during a local dance performance we had just witnessed. In fact, what had caught people off guard was not the repeated pelvis thrusts that occurred throughout the dance (typical in many traditional African dances), but rather the culmination of the song where the lead dancer put his hand down his pants and stuck his finger out of his undone zipper. Even though some of the moves were notably influenced by African culture, the show resembled a hiphop dance scene from the movie “Step Up” more than anything else. The performance by the group of young men, as Caroline pointed out to us, actually gave us a lot of insight into the generation of young Mozambicans that we will be working with who are currently experiencing a huge transition of cultural influence in their society.
Even though many European countries carved up and forced themselves upon most of Africa in the 1800’s and 1900’s, I believe that the western cultural influence which is now penetrating African society is arguably greater than ever before. While colonialism forced new languages and social structures on many African tribes, the local languages and customs persisted and were highly prevalent in everyday life. Now, on the other hand, although the current generation of Mozambican youth continues to get certain aspects of their culture from their Zulu and Shangana (here in Namaacha) heritage, there is a huge amount of influence from foreign sources that extends beyond the realms of government and economy to profoundly influence family life. This influence, in the case of my host family for example, most often comes in the subtle and seductive form of Brazilian and Portuguese television programming, American and European movies and music, and a general influx of ideas from organizations and individuals from all over the world who set up camp in foreign countries. Although one might argue that this influx of knowledge and culture greatly benefits the upcoming generation of Mozambicans, it has a detracting side to it as well. Of all the 6 children in my host family, for example, only one, my oldest brother Lissaio, can actually speak Shangana. To combat this trend the government has implemented programs to revitalize local culture by teaching native languages in schools, but these programs are few and far between.
On a personal note, after having been in Mozambique for a little less than 2 months, I’ve already started to question the presence and motives of international NGO’s and ex-pats (not excluding myself) who come to Africa to help build infrastructure and/or address public health problems, but who often bring with them their own agendas and end up causing a lot more problems than providing solutions. I am not saying that we should stop offering aid to people in developing countries, but instead I am trying to make it one of my foremost goals to not push my agenda when serving the people of my future community. We’ll see how well I hold true to that one…
Friday November 20th, 2009
I have a blog entry for this day that I'll be sending out to people on an individual basis because of its sensitive content. If you would like to see this entry, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com and I'll try to email you the entry ASAP.
Saturday November 21st, 2009
It was only slightly drizzling (a significant improvement in recent weather patterns) as I stepped out of my house and started up the hill towards the city center of Namaacha. It had been raining the night before though, so the roads were pretty muddy and it was battle with every step I took, having to tug on my sandals just to get them back out of the matope (shangana for “mud”). I was running a little late and wasn’t sure where I was going exactly, but I knew that PC had scheduled a visit with a curandeiro (a traditional healer) somewhere in Namaacha so I was pretty ready and willing make the early morning trip, even in less than ideal conditions, to have the new experience.
A look at the mountains from Barrio 25 during a quick lull in the rains.
After the initial confusion, I found myself with my language group being led down a wet, rocky mountain side, whose dirt had been scrapped away by the wind and rain, towards the curandeiro’s house. Although the path looked especially daunting, the rocks were actually not very slippery, surprisingly easy to walk on, and sort of functioned like an paved, albeit uneven road for the barrio.
When we finally arrived at the house of the curandeiro, another PC language group had just started their visit so we had to stand outside the consultation room (a circular mud-block hut, about 10 feet in diameter, topped with thatch roofing and completely separate from his actual house) under a crammed covered patio and make small talk while waiting our turn. When the other group finished their visit after 30 minutes or so and we were finally able to enter the consultation room, the curandeiro asked us to take our shoes off before entering and then sit on the straw mat stretched out on the floor in front of him. The curandeiro was a middle-aged man, probably somewhere in his early 30s, whose dark black skin dramatically contrasted the white and red capulana that he wore around his waist. Luckily for us, he spoke Portuguese very slowly and clearly and I was able to understand most, if not all, of what he told us.
Our visit with the curandeiro started with him explaining to us the preparation that goes into a consultation and how a typical consultation happens. As we sat there star struck, he rapidly pointed out items hanging from the walls of the room that play important roles in the consultation: differently designed capulanas he wears in accordance to the type of consult, head dresses that that patient must wear, various jars of herbs and animal skin, etc. He then went on to tell us how, when a patient arrives for a consult, they are not supposed to tell the curandeiro what’s wrong. Instead, the curandeiro takes a small cup filled with coins, shells, and other materials, shakes them, and the releases them onto the floor to make a pattern. He didn’t explain exactly how he reads the patterns that they make, but apparently it tells him why the patient is visiting and they move on from there with the appropriate ritual or herbal remedy. On a normal day, he guesses that he’ll see anywhere between 10-15 patients. And to me that’s very interesting because here, in a relatively urban area (like Namaacha) where access to the hospital is relatively easy, the cost to find transportation to the hospital is minimal and the care at the hospital is, most of the time, free. On the other hand, a curandeiro always charges a fee. So even when almost everyone in the area is strapped for cash, you know that money isn’t the most important factor in many people’s health decisions.
According to the curandeiro we visited, between 60-70% of Mozambicans have visited/still visit a curandeiro for medical treatment. People seek out medical treatment from curandeiros for various reasons. Even though the public health care system here in Mozambique is free of cost, there are still plenty of barriers to entry and oftentimes a visit to the local curandeiro is the more practical option. For example, with over 20 million people in Mozambique and less than 900 doctors, compared to over 15,000 curandeiros, it is safe to say that there is a significant deficiency of health care professionals, resulting in very long wait times at the hospitals. Additionally, hospitals are only located in district and provincial capital cities, so if you need to receive treatment, you may need to travel very far just to wait in those long lines. Another important aspect of visiting curandeiros is the emphasis on spiritual and emotional healing which oftentimes the official medical system tends to put less emphasis on or ignore completely. Discussing it a little more, some PC friends and I have hypothesized that maybe paying something for health-care services gives the patient a sense of comfort in knowing that the service rendered is “valuable” and the patient literally and figuratively has bought into the treatment method.
The curandeiro we met with is the district secretary of AMETRAMO, Association of Traditional Healers of Mozambique, and thus he was very sensitive in the wording of his explanations regarding the struggle between traditional healing and western medicine. While sidestepping some of the more direct questions regarding this struggle, he portrayed the current health care situation as one with shared responsibilities between both entities. He recognized that some problems are indeed biologically based, but that curandeiros have many herbal solutions that they can use to treat them. He also conceded that there are some diseases are biologically based that curandeiros haven’t yet figured out how to treat them (ie HIV) and instead they refer these patients to the area hospital. However, he was insistent that many physical illnesses are actually rooted in emotional and spiritual issues that curandeiros can best treat through particular rituals.
One must take all of that with a grain of salt though, because a patient doesn’t typically walk into a curandeiro with a hospital diagnosis. In fact, as I mentioned earlier, the curandeiro usually won’t even permit the patient to tell him what’s wrong with him. Instead, the curandeiro relies on their collection of shells, coins, and other spiritual items to help determine what the patient’s illness is. In the end it’s tough to say if a curandeiro will always refer a patient with a biologically-based problem that they can’t treat to the hospital. An omnipresent force of conflict in western medicine is the influence of money. It’s no different in traditional healing. Curandeiros are not typically ultra-wealthy members of the community and thus they need to earn money just like everyone else. As one can easily infer from this situation, there is a significant incentive to holding on to patients instead of referring them to the hospital.
That all said, there is a saying back in the States among general practitioners that 70% of acute patients will get better without the intervention of the doctor. Yet, not only do we continue to still see all of these patients, but we even encourage most people to go to the doctor more often. This seemingly insinuates that the illnesses stopping are directly related to the doctor’s interventions, but this is not always the case. So I ask, in this instance, is western medicine and traditional medicine really that different? Just a thought…
Sunday November 22nd, 2009
Since arriving back from site visits over a week ago it has been overcast and rainy every day, minus a 3 or 4 hour interval one afternoon. It’s been so bad that I’ve actually been called out by my host family for acting sad or depressed. And you know what? They were right! I’m a Florida boy and I was pretty bummed out by the weather. To give you a better picture of how intense the rain has been, two days ago it was so bad that 3 houses in Namaacha actually caved in and were destroyed because the rain eroded the mud “mortar” that held the houses’ stone exterior together. (As a side note, it’s amazing that I didn’t even notice the collapsed houses until my brother pointed it out to me! I can be so absorbed in small things that I notice the huge ones.)
That all said, after a week of rain, I woke up this morning singing to myself, finally…. it’s gonna be a bright (a bright), a bright, a bright sun shinny day! I took the opportunity to wash and dry clothes (I had been getting a lot of jabs from my host family about having worn the same pair of pants for the past three days), get mud off shoes, and, most importantly, get out and have some fun!
Check out the photos below from my long anticipated hike to the waterfalls with my PC friends and our host families:
Walking in the shade to the waterfalls just outside of Namaacha.
A better look at the scenery while walking to the waterfalls.
Yokho, Roselia, and Noemi with our host brothers and sisters at the upper waterfalls.
Me joining in on the photo action in front of the upper falls.
Josh feeling me up from behind in front of the big waterfall.
Roselia and my brother, Ramadaan, chilling on a rock in front of the big fall.
Amanda's brother and my brother, Ramadaan, climbing a tree in front of the big fall.
Yokho, Noemi, Roselia, and Josh with our host family members enjoying the sunset as we walk back to Namaacha.
Wednesday November 25th, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I miss you all! I’ll write more about my Thanksgiving experience and such later, but I just wanted to let you all know what my site placement is! **drum roll please** I will be spending the next two years in the rural town of Nauela in the northern part of the Zambezia province partnered with the international-NGO Friends in Global Health working with People Living With HIV/AIDS (PLWHA). My site is located in northern part Mozambique, close to the Mt. Namuli (the second highest mountain in the country, I think). Go check it out on google maps or something J! Now I know where I’m going and what in theory I’ll be doing, but once I get to sight we’ll see how everything pans out. Either way, I’m really excited!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Site Visit to Nicoadala and Border Hike
Wednesday November 11th, 2009
Staring at the beads of sweat quickly forming and running down the back of his shaved head, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young bike-taxi “driver” who was taking me across Quelimane to catch my flight back to Maputo. It had taken me about 5 minutes to balance myself on the bike’s rickety, improvised backseat and, now that I could stop worrying about falling off, my mind was quickly being flooded with thoughts. It had been a crazy past few days during my site visit, but it was finally coming to an end. I was exhausted. While simply trying to hold on to the bike-taxi with my loaded backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders and a bag of books in hand, I had moments where I was too encompassed in my own struggles to even appreciate the fact that someone was actually biking me AND all my baggage miles across town on uneven dirt roads. “I need to suck it up!” I thought to myself silently, pushing back my shoulders and trying to force a smile. The action didn’t get rid of the pain in my back or even the general exhaustion I was feeling at the moment, but it helped me make it the next few blocks until I was finally dropped off in front of the airport. Thinking back on it now, this realization, making the best of the situation at hand, was one of many overarching themes of my site visit to Nicoadala.
During my time Zambezia (1 of Mozambiques 11 provinces) I had the PLEASURE of staying with Jimmy Schneidewind, a PCV who is about to do his Close Of Service, or COS, with the PC. He has spent the past 2 years in the community of Nicoadala working for ICAP, an international NGO working with people living with HIV, as a co-trainer of HIV peer educators in the local hospital. Although his primary work has had its ups and downs, he’s become really involved in his community by competing on the community soccer team, co-facilitating a local youth theater group that promotes sexual health and HIV awareness, and being the national PC leader of JOMA (Jovens para a Mudança e Accão). However, for the past several weeks he has been slowly wrapping up his role in the community activities and thus we didn’t have too much official work to do during my visit.
Instead, this gave me a lot of time to “chill” and reflect on a lot of bottled up emotions that have accumulated over the past several weeks of training (I use parenthesis around the word chill because Zambezia was actually incredibly hot, with temps up around 100 degrees!). During the first day at site I found myself lying down on the impromptu bed in the house’s common area and staring up at the zinc roof while my mind wandered. Sweat accumulating on my forehead and chest did little good to cool me down as it quickly rolled around my sides and off my back, soaking into the bed that I’d be sleeping on later that night (enticing, right?). With Jimmy quietly reviewing some of his job’s final paperwork on his computer, the silence made it easy to imagine that I was actually by myself at my own site. It was a cool thought, but also a scary one. Here I was, “alone” lying down in “my” house in the middle of the day with nothing holding me back, but at the same time lying there motionless with thoughts like, What should I do now? Where could I start? Would my Portuguese be good enough for people to give me the time of day? and Do I REALLY have to go out in weather like this wearing pants and a nice shirt every day?
The thoughts of action vs. inaction quickly gave way to the heavy reality of being alone. I wasn’t feeling so good about myself and yet I couldn’t just go and meet up with any ol’ “mulungo” (the Mozambican word for white people) and cheer up by cracking some jokes in English. In that way, I finally got to see how the PC experience is not like a study abroad program (or PST) where a community is flooded with foreigners and one always has that safety net when venturing outside of their comfort zone. The “real” PC experience is more of a slap in the face, making you realize that you may very well be the only person in your village, or even within hours of traveling, who speaks English. I am alone (and will be for 2 years). Now the only question left is: How am I going to not feel lonely?
It took me some time to get over all my initial negative reactions to the down time that I was experiencing, but after I had time to process my feelings, I began to realize all the possibilities my down time gave me. I had already spent a day or so talking with Jimmy about his activities both in the community and with ICAP and that gave me a good start for my own ideas. My mind quickly turned to Permaculture training as I began wondering how my vegetable garden back in Namaacha was doing and how I might go about starting a personal garden in Nicoadala if it turned out to be my permanent site placement (it’s a lot hotter, drier and the soil does not seem nearly as fertile… in fact, the word Nicoadala means “dying of hunger” and I assume that it was named so because of agriculture problems at some time during its history). Pretty soon I was churning out ideas that would keep me occupied during my down time and provide more opportunities to make an impact in the community (a lot of them are things that I almost never make time for in the States) like going to local plays/performances, playing guitar, reading, gardening, cooking new recipes and coaching/playing sports (to name a few). Exciting stuff!
Backing up a bit and trying to recap exactly how the site visit went chronologically, 13 PC trainees flew up from Maputo to Quelimane on Saturday where we met up with most of the Zambezia PCVs at a local restaurant on the water. Although we had met several of the volunteers during PST in previous weeks, it was so different seeing them all together “in their element” outside training. The restaurant was really chill and the whole scene reminded me a lot of Florida. It was easy to imagine, while drinking some sodas and watching the sunset over Quelimane’s ocean inlet, that I was actually back in New Smyrna, hanging out with Bryan and Co. at Inlet Harbor.
The next day Matt, 2 PCVs (Sara and Luke), Sara’s Mozambican boyfriend, and I took a chapa to Zalala, the closest beach, for a day beach trip (Jimmy was playing a soccer game in Quelimane and couldn’t come with us). The chapa was really more of a pickup truck and, as we quickly discovered, the driver didn’t even have a license to carry passengers. Thus, the truck spent the better part of the next hour taking the backroads to the beach to avoid police checkpoints on the main road. Once we finally got outside of the city, however, we eventually made it back on track and got to the beach without incident. The beach was really beautiful, but what really caught my attention was the fact that wind-bent trees, not high-rise condominiums, lined the beach front in both directions as far as the eye could see. I enjoyed the nice, peaceful afternoon on the beach, but what made it even more memorable was that it was my first time getting to swim in the Indian Ocean! I read a little, swam and talked with Matt and Luke, and topped it all off by making a pretty high-quality drip sandcastle before packing up and heading back into Quelimane. Later that afternoon, I met back up with Jimmy and we took a short chapa ride out of the provincial capital to Nicoadala before calling it a night.
Now if I didn’t describe more about my experience with Jimmy you might finish reading this blog post and think that I didn’t have such a great time during my site visit. The fact of the matter is, however, that it went GREAT! Despite the fact that it started out slow, Jimmy and I ended up walking all around Nicoadala (it’s not actually that big) doing little things here and there. After spending the morning and early afternoon in his house on the first day, we later visited the hospital, high school, and soccer field where he does some of his PC projects (most recently a Permaculture training just outside the hospital). The next day we went and talked with the administrator of the district and then got to go have lunch with a couple who are both peer educators who work with Jimmy at the hospital. They served us the Zambezian version of Matapa (complete with potatoes and Shrimp) and topped it off with a locally-grown, freshly cut up pineapple. Amazing!
That sentiment specifically referred to taste of that pineapple, but also mirrors how Jimmy and I felt about our own cooking creations. Every meal we took it upon ourselves to try and outdo the previous one. As a matter of fact, for our last dinner together we ended up preparing 3 medium size pizzas (two decked out with grilled chicken and sausage) and a banana cream pie made from scratch, without a conventional oven mind you! I could go into the gloriousness of the invention of the double-dutch oven for hours right now, but instead I’ll just tell you what it is (I had never even heard of it before the site visit): one small pot inside a larger covered pot with rocks/sand separating them on the bottom so that the stove’s heat transfers to contents of the small pot like an oven would. Take home message: when in Africa, double dutch it!
On my final day, we headed back to Quelimane early to do a few things (buy some hair clippers and eat a Zambezian-style grilled chicken at a famous local fast food restaurant) before I had to catch my flight. Jimmy and I were about to say goodbye when he gave me a final farewell present: a jar of Black Cat peanut butter (a precious commodity typically only available in bigger cities in Mozambique)! It was a really nice gesture on his part and added to the many things he had already given me (i.e. a Southern Africa travel guide book, a gardening/permaculture book, answers to all my questions, not to mention simply a great time). I feel like we really got close during our time together and I’m bummed that he’ll be heading home before I get a chance to come back up to Zambezia and visit L…
Before I knew it, we had said goodbye and I was holding on tight to the back of the bike-taxi, backpack full and books in hand, meandering through the dirt streets towards the airport. It was an abrupt change arriving at the airport and being welcomed back into the world of PST filled with fellow Americans. It was a bittersweet moment, happy to share the stories, but also feeling ready to leave training behind and get started already. So what did I learn from all of this? I guess the biggest thing was probably the fact that I now know that I not only CAN do it, but I really WANT to do it and am excited about it J
*A quick note: One PC Trainee from the Moz 14 group (we are the 14th year of PC here in Mozambique) decided to leave PC and go back home right before site visits. So now we are only 68…. I hope that we don’t lose any more trainees from our group, but at the same time I hope that everyone makes the right decision for themselves and doesn’t feel too much pressure from other trainees to stay if they are really unhappy with the experience.
Sunday November 15th, 2009
“Are we in South Africa?!”
Yesterday, 4 PCTs and I set out to hike up to the top of a mountain right outside Namaacha where Swaziland, South Africa, and Mozambique meet. After hiking down from Namaacha for 30 minutes or so and crossing through a relentlessly sunny prairie, we came upon a nice shady area next to a quaint, rural farmhouse where we quickly all decided to sit down. Before the 5 of us could relax, however, 3 huge purebred dogs saw us and quickly came running. After the initial shock of having 50+ pound dogs running at us, we discovered that they were actually pretty friendly and just wanted to play. A few moments later we were startled again when we looked up and there was a young, pale girl with strawberry blond hair watching us. We were all unsure what to think. Where are we? Who the heck is this girl? and Should we introduce ourselves in Portuguese or English? She eventually said “hello” to us in a queer accent and we quickly responded by asking her where she was from. She told us that she is from South Africa and, confused by all of this, my PC friend Anna innocently blurted out “Are we in South Africa?!” The girl got a mystified look on her face, but then recovered to respond condescendingly “No, you are in Mozambique!” In the end, the little, mouthy South African girl, Naomi as it turns out, actually played a key role in our journey by directing us back on the path to the top of the mountain. It was a long hike and I definitely feel it in my legs today (and my head where I got a little sun burned), but it was definitely worth it.
Check out the photos from the trip below:
A nice picture of the biggest catholic church in the district located near the center of Namaacha right before the hike.
Yokho getting excited about the fruit (called Jaca)... so huge!
Yokho, Anna, and Lisa posing on a scenic road outside Namaacha.
Yokho, Anna, Lisa, and Ethan resting after hiking halfway up the mountain.
Me perching on a rock with the city of Namaacha in the background! Photo courtesy of Yokho...
The hiking group at the marker where South Africa, Swaziland, and Mozambique come together.
Me doing the Gator Chomp at the 3 country marker! The gator nation is everywhere...
Hiking down the mountain... you get a glimpse at the beautiful farmland that surrounds Namaacha.
Yokho throwing up a peace sign as the sun sets in the distance. Good hike!
Staring at the beads of sweat quickly forming and running down the back of his shaved head, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young bike-taxi “driver” who was taking me across Quelimane to catch my flight back to Maputo. It had taken me about 5 minutes to balance myself on the bike’s rickety, improvised backseat and, now that I could stop worrying about falling off, my mind was quickly being flooded with thoughts. It had been a crazy past few days during my site visit, but it was finally coming to an end. I was exhausted. While simply trying to hold on to the bike-taxi with my loaded backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders and a bag of books in hand, I had moments where I was too encompassed in my own struggles to even appreciate the fact that someone was actually biking me AND all my baggage miles across town on uneven dirt roads. “I need to suck it up!” I thought to myself silently, pushing back my shoulders and trying to force a smile. The action didn’t get rid of the pain in my back or even the general exhaustion I was feeling at the moment, but it helped me make it the next few blocks until I was finally dropped off in front of the airport. Thinking back on it now, this realization, making the best of the situation at hand, was one of many overarching themes of my site visit to Nicoadala.
During my time Zambezia (1 of Mozambiques 11 provinces) I had the PLEASURE of staying with Jimmy Schneidewind, a PCV who is about to do his Close Of Service, or COS, with the PC. He has spent the past 2 years in the community of Nicoadala working for ICAP, an international NGO working with people living with HIV, as a co-trainer of HIV peer educators in the local hospital. Although his primary work has had its ups and downs, he’s become really involved in his community by competing on the community soccer team, co-facilitating a local youth theater group that promotes sexual health and HIV awareness, and being the national PC leader of JOMA (Jovens para a Mudança e Accão). However, for the past several weeks he has been slowly wrapping up his role in the community activities and thus we didn’t have too much official work to do during my visit.
Instead, this gave me a lot of time to “chill” and reflect on a lot of bottled up emotions that have accumulated over the past several weeks of training (I use parenthesis around the word chill because Zambezia was actually incredibly hot, with temps up around 100 degrees!). During the first day at site I found myself lying down on the impromptu bed in the house’s common area and staring up at the zinc roof while my mind wandered. Sweat accumulating on my forehead and chest did little good to cool me down as it quickly rolled around my sides and off my back, soaking into the bed that I’d be sleeping on later that night (enticing, right?). With Jimmy quietly reviewing some of his job’s final paperwork on his computer, the silence made it easy to imagine that I was actually by myself at my own site. It was a cool thought, but also a scary one. Here I was, “alone” lying down in “my” house in the middle of the day with nothing holding me back, but at the same time lying there motionless with thoughts like, What should I do now? Where could I start? Would my Portuguese be good enough for people to give me the time of day? and Do I REALLY have to go out in weather like this wearing pants and a nice shirt every day?
The thoughts of action vs. inaction quickly gave way to the heavy reality of being alone. I wasn’t feeling so good about myself and yet I couldn’t just go and meet up with any ol’ “mulungo” (the Mozambican word for white people) and cheer up by cracking some jokes in English. In that way, I finally got to see how the PC experience is not like a study abroad program (or PST) where a community is flooded with foreigners and one always has that safety net when venturing outside of their comfort zone. The “real” PC experience is more of a slap in the face, making you realize that you may very well be the only person in your village, or even within hours of traveling, who speaks English. I am alone (and will be for 2 years). Now the only question left is: How am I going to not feel lonely?
It took me some time to get over all my initial negative reactions to the down time that I was experiencing, but after I had time to process my feelings, I began to realize all the possibilities my down time gave me. I had already spent a day or so talking with Jimmy about his activities both in the community and with ICAP and that gave me a good start for my own ideas. My mind quickly turned to Permaculture training as I began wondering how my vegetable garden back in Namaacha was doing and how I might go about starting a personal garden in Nicoadala if it turned out to be my permanent site placement (it’s a lot hotter, drier and the soil does not seem nearly as fertile… in fact, the word Nicoadala means “dying of hunger” and I assume that it was named so because of agriculture problems at some time during its history). Pretty soon I was churning out ideas that would keep me occupied during my down time and provide more opportunities to make an impact in the community (a lot of them are things that I almost never make time for in the States) like going to local plays/performances, playing guitar, reading, gardening, cooking new recipes and coaching/playing sports (to name a few). Exciting stuff!
Backing up a bit and trying to recap exactly how the site visit went chronologically, 13 PC trainees flew up from Maputo to Quelimane on Saturday where we met up with most of the Zambezia PCVs at a local restaurant on the water. Although we had met several of the volunteers during PST in previous weeks, it was so different seeing them all together “in their element” outside training. The restaurant was really chill and the whole scene reminded me a lot of Florida. It was easy to imagine, while drinking some sodas and watching the sunset over Quelimane’s ocean inlet, that I was actually back in New Smyrna, hanging out with Bryan and Co. at Inlet Harbor.
The next day Matt, 2 PCVs (Sara and Luke), Sara’s Mozambican boyfriend, and I took a chapa to Zalala, the closest beach, for a day beach trip (Jimmy was playing a soccer game in Quelimane and couldn’t come with us). The chapa was really more of a pickup truck and, as we quickly discovered, the driver didn’t even have a license to carry passengers. Thus, the truck spent the better part of the next hour taking the backroads to the beach to avoid police checkpoints on the main road. Once we finally got outside of the city, however, we eventually made it back on track and got to the beach without incident. The beach was really beautiful, but what really caught my attention was the fact that wind-bent trees, not high-rise condominiums, lined the beach front in both directions as far as the eye could see. I enjoyed the nice, peaceful afternoon on the beach, but what made it even more memorable was that it was my first time getting to swim in the Indian Ocean! I read a little, swam and talked with Matt and Luke, and topped it all off by making a pretty high-quality drip sandcastle before packing up and heading back into Quelimane. Later that afternoon, I met back up with Jimmy and we took a short chapa ride out of the provincial capital to Nicoadala before calling it a night.
Now if I didn’t describe more about my experience with Jimmy you might finish reading this blog post and think that I didn’t have such a great time during my site visit. The fact of the matter is, however, that it went GREAT! Despite the fact that it started out slow, Jimmy and I ended up walking all around Nicoadala (it’s not actually that big) doing little things here and there. After spending the morning and early afternoon in his house on the first day, we later visited the hospital, high school, and soccer field where he does some of his PC projects (most recently a Permaculture training just outside the hospital). The next day we went and talked with the administrator of the district and then got to go have lunch with a couple who are both peer educators who work with Jimmy at the hospital. They served us the Zambezian version of Matapa (complete with potatoes and Shrimp) and topped it off with a locally-grown, freshly cut up pineapple. Amazing!
That sentiment specifically referred to taste of that pineapple, but also mirrors how Jimmy and I felt about our own cooking creations. Every meal we took it upon ourselves to try and outdo the previous one. As a matter of fact, for our last dinner together we ended up preparing 3 medium size pizzas (two decked out with grilled chicken and sausage) and a banana cream pie made from scratch, without a conventional oven mind you! I could go into the gloriousness of the invention of the double-dutch oven for hours right now, but instead I’ll just tell you what it is (I had never even heard of it before the site visit): one small pot inside a larger covered pot with rocks/sand separating them on the bottom so that the stove’s heat transfers to contents of the small pot like an oven would. Take home message: when in Africa, double dutch it!
On my final day, we headed back to Quelimane early to do a few things (buy some hair clippers and eat a Zambezian-style grilled chicken at a famous local fast food restaurant) before I had to catch my flight. Jimmy and I were about to say goodbye when he gave me a final farewell present: a jar of Black Cat peanut butter (a precious commodity typically only available in bigger cities in Mozambique)! It was a really nice gesture on his part and added to the many things he had already given me (i.e. a Southern Africa travel guide book, a gardening/permaculture book, answers to all my questions, not to mention simply a great time). I feel like we really got close during our time together and I’m bummed that he’ll be heading home before I get a chance to come back up to Zambezia and visit L…
Before I knew it, we had said goodbye and I was holding on tight to the back of the bike-taxi, backpack full and books in hand, meandering through the dirt streets towards the airport. It was an abrupt change arriving at the airport and being welcomed back into the world of PST filled with fellow Americans. It was a bittersweet moment, happy to share the stories, but also feeling ready to leave training behind and get started already. So what did I learn from all of this? I guess the biggest thing was probably the fact that I now know that I not only CAN do it, but I really WANT to do it and am excited about it J
*A quick note: One PC Trainee from the Moz 14 group (we are the 14th year of PC here in Mozambique) decided to leave PC and go back home right before site visits. So now we are only 68…. I hope that we don’t lose any more trainees from our group, but at the same time I hope that everyone makes the right decision for themselves and doesn’t feel too much pressure from other trainees to stay if they are really unhappy with the experience.
Sunday November 15th, 2009
“Are we in South Africa?!”
Yesterday, 4 PCTs and I set out to hike up to the top of a mountain right outside Namaacha where Swaziland, South Africa, and Mozambique meet. After hiking down from Namaacha for 30 minutes or so and crossing through a relentlessly sunny prairie, we came upon a nice shady area next to a quaint, rural farmhouse where we quickly all decided to sit down. Before the 5 of us could relax, however, 3 huge purebred dogs saw us and quickly came running. After the initial shock of having 50+ pound dogs running at us, we discovered that they were actually pretty friendly and just wanted to play. A few moments later we were startled again when we looked up and there was a young, pale girl with strawberry blond hair watching us. We were all unsure what to think. Where are we? Who the heck is this girl? and Should we introduce ourselves in Portuguese or English? She eventually said “hello” to us in a queer accent and we quickly responded by asking her where she was from. She told us that she is from South Africa and, confused by all of this, my PC friend Anna innocently blurted out “Are we in South Africa?!” The girl got a mystified look on her face, but then recovered to respond condescendingly “No, you are in Mozambique!” In the end, the little, mouthy South African girl, Naomi as it turns out, actually played a key role in our journey by directing us back on the path to the top of the mountain. It was a long hike and I definitely feel it in my legs today (and my head where I got a little sun burned), but it was definitely worth it.
Check out the photos from the trip below:
A nice picture of the biggest catholic church in the district located near the center of Namaacha right before the hike.
Yokho getting excited about the fruit (called Jaca)... so huge!
Yokho, Anna, and Lisa posing on a scenic road outside Namaacha.
Yokho, Anna, Lisa, and Ethan resting after hiking halfway up the mountain.
Me perching on a rock with the city of Namaacha in the background! Photo courtesy of Yokho...
The hiking group at the marker where South Africa, Swaziland, and Mozambique come together.
Me doing the Gator Chomp at the 3 country marker! The gator nation is everywhere...
Hiking down the mountain... you get a glimpse at the beautiful farmland that surrounds Namaacha.
Yokho throwing up a peace sign as the sun sets in the distance. Good hike!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Permaculture training, putting it to practice, and getting ready to travel north!
Thursday October 29th, 2009
So for the past two days we’ve gotten a welcomed break from our normally scheduled classes in order to go out to the fields and learn about an agriculture technique called “Permaculture.” The term comes from the union of “permanent agriculture” and is called such because the method tries to achieve small scale, sustainable agriculture success for families with a very limited space to plant. As we found out over the past two days, the technique is thousands of years old, but has just recently been popularly promoted by people all over the world as an effective method of farming. In fact, this was the first time that PC Mozambique had decided to devote time to it during PST and I’ll go ahead and say that the overwhelming consensus was that it was time well spent!
With this training behind me and with the resources that the PC is going to provide us regarding agriculture, I’m really confident that I will be promoting this technique in my community. Not only will it hopefully give my community members a better yield of crops, but it likely will also provide an opportunity for people in my community to better relate to me and give me a chance to broach several health topics regarding agriculture and nutrition.
That said, Permaculture is different from how most Mozambicans do their agriculture and I suspect that there will be a lot of resistance to change. The technique has a few key pillars to its implementation and some are significantly more labor intensive than the traditional agriculture technique here. Our permaculture training instructed us that a “double dig” (literally digging once, then pushing that dirt out of the way and digging again) and mixing the soil with compost ,among other things, will significantly enrich the soil and easily allow the plant’s roots to grow deep into the earth so the plant can grow tall and healthy. Both of these techniques, the double dig and adding compost, put air into the soil and thus it is essential to keep people off of the plant bed once dug. However, this is easier said than done here in Mozambique because you have to worry about the whole neighborhood’s children and animals running around in your yard and having to construct a fence around the plant bed is just another barrier keeping people from changing their current agriculture practices.
Thinking about all this, I want to get my family to try it out, even though they have comparatively a lot of land, just so that I can get some practice explaining the rational to people in Portuguese and have some actual experience planting things outside of Farmville (that one’s for you Mariah, Mom, and Ricky)! We’ll see how receptive they are to it…
Sunday November 1st, 2009
I’ve realized over the past several days that even though Mozambique doesn’t choose to readily acknowledge four seasons (usually they only refer to winter and summer A.K.A. the dry and rainy seasons), that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a period of time where it is still cold, yet periodically rains (i.e. this whole week!). Today, however, is a warm day with no rain and hopefully it is just a sneak peak of what more is to come…
So after writing about my experience with Permaculture on Thursday night, I fell asleep just as my body was beginning to feel the effects of 2 days in the cold, wet fields (or as they say here in Mozambique, in the cold, wet “Machambas”). I was feeling pretty achy when I woke up the next morning, but decided to try and tough it out through the day of classes. Bad idea! The morning went by without incident, but I didn’t make it too far into the afternoon’s classes before I started feeling horrible and ended up having to go home early and rest. I passed out on my bed early in the afternoon with my t-shirt halfway off and my jeans still around my knees and could very well have made it through to the next morning like that if it wasn’t for my host mom’s thunderous knocking letting me know that, sick or not, it was time to take a shower and eat dinner. Despite my moans and groans, the shower really did feel pretty good and it was a tasty, filling dinner. It also gave me a chance to call up my friend Matt (previously shown in a lot of my pictures, most recently crushing up peanuts with his mother during the Mozambican luncheon with my language group) and he quickly came to my rescue with a bottle of ibuprofen that really helped me make it though the weekend’s Halloween festivities.
Saturday morning I woke up feeling better, but knowing that I was still pretty weak and wanting to test out my strength before the Halloween party later that night. I remembered that the capulanas (a traditional Mozambican cloth that is typically wrapped around a woman’s waist like a skirt) which I bought and dropped off to be made into shirts were ready, so my brother and I walked across town to pick up the shirts and test out how I was really feeling. Although the trip was tough on my body, I decided that, sick or not, I had been talking up the party for a while with my host brothers and I really didn’t want to let them down by backing out at the last minute.
The party went off without a hitch and I actually continued to feel better and better as we went through the evening. Walking from my host family’s house to the party was quite the spectacle. My host brothers knew that I had been planning on dressing up as the Chiquita banana woman for some time, but when it came time to head out for the party they couldn’t believe that I was actually going to walk all the way across Namaacha in the dress. Consequently, my host brothers both chickened out at the last moment in joining me as Chiquita banana women and instead left for the party without costumes. When we got to the party, however, we ran into a PC friend of mine and his host brothers who had bought several rolls of toilet paper and were wrapping themselves to dress like mummies. My younger brother, Ramadan (the serious one), immediately decided that he also wanted to be a mummy and we made quite the couple at the party together (hopefully I’ll be able to get a picture of this for you all soon). After the family oriented portion of the party ended around 8:30, I walked my brothers back home, changed clothes, and then headed back out for Palushas after a quick dinner. The Halloween dance party at Palushas was really fun and didn’t run too late into the night (we had to be home by midnight). Getting a bunch of Americans together to celebrate the occasion really made Mozambique feel a little bit more like home and lessened the reality that we are so far away from our friends (I miss you all!).
This morning I went to church as usual, but switched things up a little by singing “I’ll fly away” in front of the congregation with my host mom (even though I wrote out the lyrics for the song for her, she still mostly just hummed the tune while I sang) since all the other volunteers flaked out on coming to church the morning after the Halloween party. The whole church service I thought about how in a few hours my family would be going to church in Gainesville for All Saints Day to remember Memom, my grandmother who recently passed away, and thus I spent a lot of the service thinking about her (I wish I could have been there).
Later in the day, I ended up running errands with my brother Ramadan trying to get ready to make my small Machamba in front of my host family’s house. We went around the neighborhood buying manure, gathering small pieces of char/ash, and getting seeds before finally heading back home to start digging. With the help of my brothers, we completed the first dig today and tomorrow we should finish up with second dig and possibly plant the seeds.
Monday November 2nd, 2009
Today my oldest brother (Lissaio) and I finished digging the two plant beds (it’s a lot harder when you don’t have 3 or 4 people helping you) and then planted and watered the seeds. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned this before, but the PC trainees are going on “site visits” this weekend to give us an idea of what it might actually be like once we get to our sites in December. I am not exactly sure about all the details, but when I come back next Wednesday, hopefully the seeds will be germinating and the ground won’t be compacted by the neighborhood’s roaming chickens or my youngest brother (Eunicio) and his gang of 5 year old friends.
On a small side note, I cut my hair really short after planting the seeds this afternoon and now it feels so cold! I can’t wait for my hair to grow back or for the weather to warm back up a little (whichever comes first!).
Wednesday, November 4th, 2009
It’s official! I’m going north to the province of Zambezia for my site visit. I don’t know too much about the details, but a group of us are flying out of Maputo to Quelimane (the capital city of Zambezia) on Saturday and won’t be back in Namaacha until Wednesday evening. I am really looking forward to breaking up the routine of training in any way possible and I can’t wait to get out and see what other parts of Mozambique are like. I’ll post again later next week after I get back from my site visit…
One Love,
Michael
Me and my brothers getting ready to go to the Halloween party! I'm supposed to be the Mozambican Chiquita Banana Woman
My brother watering our newly planted Machamba!
Me sporting my new hair cut and new Mozambican shirt made from a calpulana.
So for the past two days we’ve gotten a welcomed break from our normally scheduled classes in order to go out to the fields and learn about an agriculture technique called “Permaculture.” The term comes from the union of “permanent agriculture” and is called such because the method tries to achieve small scale, sustainable agriculture success for families with a very limited space to plant. As we found out over the past two days, the technique is thousands of years old, but has just recently been popularly promoted by people all over the world as an effective method of farming. In fact, this was the first time that PC Mozambique had decided to devote time to it during PST and I’ll go ahead and say that the overwhelming consensus was that it was time well spent!
With this training behind me and with the resources that the PC is going to provide us regarding agriculture, I’m really confident that I will be promoting this technique in my community. Not only will it hopefully give my community members a better yield of crops, but it likely will also provide an opportunity for people in my community to better relate to me and give me a chance to broach several health topics regarding agriculture and nutrition.
That said, Permaculture is different from how most Mozambicans do their agriculture and I suspect that there will be a lot of resistance to change. The technique has a few key pillars to its implementation and some are significantly more labor intensive than the traditional agriculture technique here. Our permaculture training instructed us that a “double dig” (literally digging once, then pushing that dirt out of the way and digging again) and mixing the soil with compost ,among other things, will significantly enrich the soil and easily allow the plant’s roots to grow deep into the earth so the plant can grow tall and healthy. Both of these techniques, the double dig and adding compost, put air into the soil and thus it is essential to keep people off of the plant bed once dug. However, this is easier said than done here in Mozambique because you have to worry about the whole neighborhood’s children and animals running around in your yard and having to construct a fence around the plant bed is just another barrier keeping people from changing their current agriculture practices.
Thinking about all this, I want to get my family to try it out, even though they have comparatively a lot of land, just so that I can get some practice explaining the rational to people in Portuguese and have some actual experience planting things outside of Farmville (that one’s for you Mariah, Mom, and Ricky)! We’ll see how receptive they are to it…
Sunday November 1st, 2009
I’ve realized over the past several days that even though Mozambique doesn’t choose to readily acknowledge four seasons (usually they only refer to winter and summer A.K.A. the dry and rainy seasons), that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a period of time where it is still cold, yet periodically rains (i.e. this whole week!). Today, however, is a warm day with no rain and hopefully it is just a sneak peak of what more is to come…
So after writing about my experience with Permaculture on Thursday night, I fell asleep just as my body was beginning to feel the effects of 2 days in the cold, wet fields (or as they say here in Mozambique, in the cold, wet “Machambas”). I was feeling pretty achy when I woke up the next morning, but decided to try and tough it out through the day of classes. Bad idea! The morning went by without incident, but I didn’t make it too far into the afternoon’s classes before I started feeling horrible and ended up having to go home early and rest. I passed out on my bed early in the afternoon with my t-shirt halfway off and my jeans still around my knees and could very well have made it through to the next morning like that if it wasn’t for my host mom’s thunderous knocking letting me know that, sick or not, it was time to take a shower and eat dinner. Despite my moans and groans, the shower really did feel pretty good and it was a tasty, filling dinner. It also gave me a chance to call up my friend Matt (previously shown in a lot of my pictures, most recently crushing up peanuts with his mother during the Mozambican luncheon with my language group) and he quickly came to my rescue with a bottle of ibuprofen that really helped me make it though the weekend’s Halloween festivities.
Saturday morning I woke up feeling better, but knowing that I was still pretty weak and wanting to test out my strength before the Halloween party later that night. I remembered that the capulanas (a traditional Mozambican cloth that is typically wrapped around a woman’s waist like a skirt) which I bought and dropped off to be made into shirts were ready, so my brother and I walked across town to pick up the shirts and test out how I was really feeling. Although the trip was tough on my body, I decided that, sick or not, I had been talking up the party for a while with my host brothers and I really didn’t want to let them down by backing out at the last minute.
The party went off without a hitch and I actually continued to feel better and better as we went through the evening. Walking from my host family’s house to the party was quite the spectacle. My host brothers knew that I had been planning on dressing up as the Chiquita banana woman for some time, but when it came time to head out for the party they couldn’t believe that I was actually going to walk all the way across Namaacha in the dress. Consequently, my host brothers both chickened out at the last moment in joining me as Chiquita banana women and instead left for the party without costumes. When we got to the party, however, we ran into a PC friend of mine and his host brothers who had bought several rolls of toilet paper and were wrapping themselves to dress like mummies. My younger brother, Ramadan (the serious one), immediately decided that he also wanted to be a mummy and we made quite the couple at the party together (hopefully I’ll be able to get a picture of this for you all soon). After the family oriented portion of the party ended around 8:30, I walked my brothers back home, changed clothes, and then headed back out for Palushas after a quick dinner. The Halloween dance party at Palushas was really fun and didn’t run too late into the night (we had to be home by midnight). Getting a bunch of Americans together to celebrate the occasion really made Mozambique feel a little bit more like home and lessened the reality that we are so far away from our friends (I miss you all!).
This morning I went to church as usual, but switched things up a little by singing “I’ll fly away” in front of the congregation with my host mom (even though I wrote out the lyrics for the song for her, she still mostly just hummed the tune while I sang) since all the other volunteers flaked out on coming to church the morning after the Halloween party. The whole church service I thought about how in a few hours my family would be going to church in Gainesville for All Saints Day to remember Memom, my grandmother who recently passed away, and thus I spent a lot of the service thinking about her (I wish I could have been there).
Later in the day, I ended up running errands with my brother Ramadan trying to get ready to make my small Machamba in front of my host family’s house. We went around the neighborhood buying manure, gathering small pieces of char/ash, and getting seeds before finally heading back home to start digging. With the help of my brothers, we completed the first dig today and tomorrow we should finish up with second dig and possibly plant the seeds.
Monday November 2nd, 2009
Today my oldest brother (Lissaio) and I finished digging the two plant beds (it’s a lot harder when you don’t have 3 or 4 people helping you) and then planted and watered the seeds. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned this before, but the PC trainees are going on “site visits” this weekend to give us an idea of what it might actually be like once we get to our sites in December. I am not exactly sure about all the details, but when I come back next Wednesday, hopefully the seeds will be germinating and the ground won’t be compacted by the neighborhood’s roaming chickens or my youngest brother (Eunicio) and his gang of 5 year old friends.
On a small side note, I cut my hair really short after planting the seeds this afternoon and now it feels so cold! I can’t wait for my hair to grow back or for the weather to warm back up a little (whichever comes first!).
Wednesday, November 4th, 2009
It’s official! I’m going north to the province of Zambezia for my site visit. I don’t know too much about the details, but a group of us are flying out of Maputo to Quelimane (the capital city of Zambezia) on Saturday and won’t be back in Namaacha until Wednesday evening. I am really looking forward to breaking up the routine of training in any way possible and I can’t wait to get out and see what other parts of Mozambique are like. I’ll post again later next week after I get back from my site visit…
One Love,
Michael
Me and my brothers getting ready to go to the Halloween party! I'm supposed to be the Mozambican Chiquita Banana Woman
My brother watering our newly planted Machamba!
Me sporting my new hair cut and new Mozambican shirt made from a calpulana.
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